


Don’t Get Your Feelings (Broken For Nothing)

by rq_maybe



Series: The Adventures of Frat Daddy Becky and Sunshine Charlotte [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Actually scratch that it might be heavy on the angst, Alternate Universe - College/University, But there is a happy-ish ending, F/F, This is the FDB AU, assuming i make it that far in the writing process, i think, moderate angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 21:31:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16313030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rq_maybe/pseuds/rq_maybe
Summary: "I was having fun. We were having fun. Wasn’t that why we came to this university for? To have a good time? Get some girls, some guys for you maybe, have a fun time, rinse, repeat."Everything was going according to plan for Becky (and Sasha), until their school's women's volleyball team moves next door and tilts the world off its axis.





	1. now I know that you're the dangerous kind

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is, the Frat Daddy Becky AU, in all its work-in-progress glory. The title comes from Leon Bridges' "Bet Ain't Worth The Hand," featuring the following lines:
> 
> I can't commit, I can't make plans  
> Sometimes the bet ain't worth the hand  
> I think you're special, it makes me sad  
> Don't wanna wonder what we could've had
> 
> This is going to be a bit of a roller-coaster, especially since I'm still in the process of writing it. Send good vibes to your girl.

_ First week of December _

Everyone knew that the balcony was Becky Lynch’s sole domain in the house. Everyone knew that they were supposed to stay away from it, especially when Becky a) had a girl over or b) was in a bad mood. And in recent days, it was as though Becky was in a perpetually bad mood.

Everyone in their fraternity -- really, organization was the official term, but they had called it a frat since time immemorial, so the university officials can suck it -- knew to stay away from the balcony. But Sasha Banks was not everybody -- she was the Boss, and the dark cloud that hung over her best friend was not about to stop her.

She clambered over the window that led to the small space, enough to hold, at most, three people. Becky spent most of her time there, studying there, smoking there, drinking there. She even used to bring girls there, when she particularly wanted to impress them by showing off the gorgeous view of the campus. In recent months, however, that balcony had been a witness to Becky’s tremendous courtship of just one girl.

“Hey,” Sasha said, a little out of breath. She needed to climb a ladder to the house’s attic, then crawl through the window to get to the balcony. Still, the view was worth it. No wonder Becky loved it there. “Nikki says you’ve been here for hours.”

“Can’t a lass brood in silence?” Becky answered, her voice short and clipped. She was leaning over the barricade, staring at nothing and everything.

Sasha sighed, before mirroring her friend’s pose. “Okay, I get that you’re pissed at me. But that’s the thing -- I came here to apologize.”

“You?” Becky said, letting out a bark of laughter. “Apologize? What’s next? Pigs flyin’?”

Sasha looked annoyed for a moment, before fixing her expression to one of neutrality. “I am making an effort here, Becky.” She was silent for a second, then said: “I am sorry. I didn’t know she was there when I asked you about… you know. That thing. I didn’t mean for her to hear anything.”

Becky let out a soft sigh. She tapped her hand against her knee, and for the first time, Sasha noticed that there was an unlit cigarette between her fingers. Becky wasn’t a big smoker; she only did so when she was especially stressed. She hadn’t smoked in months.

“You need a light?” Sasha asked.

“No" was the swift answer. “Charlotte… she didn’t like cigarette smoke. Saw me smoking once and the frown on her face tore me up for hours,” Becky said. It was the first time she’d uttered the woman’s name in a while. She tapped the cigarette against the railing, then sighed deeply.

“Sasha,” she said, her raspy voice sounding broken, soft, “I fucked up so bad.”

“Becky --”

“It’s not your fault,” Becky said abruptly. “None of this is your fault. I shouldn’t have agreed to that stupid challenge in the first place. I shouldn’t have needed you to … to  _ dare _ me like that, just to make a move on Cha- on her.”

“This is all on me,” she added, before sighing deeply again. She let out a mirthless laugh. “God, I am so stupid.”

“Becky, you’re not stupid,” Sasha felt compelled to say. But she knew it was useless.

Becky shook her head. “No, I am stupid,” she said. “Everything was great. I was having fun. We were having fun. Wasn’t that why we came to this university for? To have a good time? Get some girls, some guys for you maybe, have a fun time, rinse, repeat.”

“Should have stuck to that pattern,” Becky continued. “But no, I had to go and --” Another mirthless chuckle. “I had to go and actually  _ like _ the girl. Just because she looked like … like sunshine.”

Sasha was silent. She had watched in the past months as Becky fell deeper and deeper, and had felt happy for her best friend. Sure, Becky being in a real, committed relationship meant the end of their fun little games, but that was nothing when compared to the utter joy that Becky clearly experienced whenever she was with Charlotte.

And now, thanks in part to her, that happiness was dashed. And Becky was here, playing with an unlit cigarette in a lonely balcony, staring up at stars as if they held the answers to her questions.

“I am so stupid,” Becky said again. “I am a literal dumbass.”

“Becky,” Sasha said. She doesn’t know how to help, but she can try. “You’re not a dumbass for falling in love.”


	2. from the first moment, i knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's roll it back to August, to the first meeting. In this house we love first encounters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bored so I'm putting up Chapter 2 a little earlier than planned.
> 
> The title of the chapter is from Gary Clark Jr.'s "Down to Ride," which also serves as one of the inspirations for this entire story.
> 
> From the first moment I knew/  
> I really want to know you/  
> I ain't never met nobody like you/  
> You make me want to show you, the world/  
> I used to feel alone, I used to feel alone/  
> 'Til I got you.

_August_

“Ah, I love school.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Becky beamed at her friend. “No, I love school,” she said again. “Love getting that sweet, sweet education.”

Sasha followed Becky’s line of sight, then smirked. “Oh yeah. School’s great. Fantastic, even.”

The two were lounging in the small garden in front of their frat house -- “organizational housing,” according to university officials -- and Becky had caught sight of a bunch of girls moving into the place right across them. It was still a part of the school’s “organizational housing,” but it had been empty the past couple of years.

“Wonder if they’re a sorority,” Sasha said.

“Wanna find out?” Becky asked.

Sasha grinned, and moved to stand from the chairs that they had dragged out of their frat house. Neither of them had unpacked, opting instead to catch the last rays of the sun. Sasha was all set to make her way across the street, when …

“Okay, I know you two have plans, but Mickie says to fix your shit up first.” This, coming from Nikki Cross, another member of their organization. “She says if your shit are still stacked up in the living room when she gets back tonight, she’ll throw all of ‘em out the garden.”

“Oh, Mickie can stuff it,” said Becky. Still, she stood up, stretched a bit, then gave a longing look at the house across the street where a couple of tall women were piling up boxes upon boxes. “Whatever. We still have tomorrow, right Sasha?”

“Absolutely,” said Sasha. Neither one of them were in the mood to face Mickie James’ wrath before school even officially opened.

*

_A week later_

The women moving into the house across the street were not, in fact, a member of a sorority. Well, not officially. They were the school’s volleyball team, and the Department of Athletics decided for some reason to move them there. There were 14 players in the house, plus a team manager, who was a student taking up her Master’s degree.

“You know the team manager, Becky,” said Mickie, who managed to find out all the relevant information in one day.

“Excuse me?” said Becky, looking up from where she was pouring cereal into a bowl.

“The manager of the team from the house across the street,” said Mickie. “You know her. Nattie Neidhart?”

“Nattie… Neid-what?” Becky asked, frowning. “Oh! You mean Natalya?”

“That would be the one.”

“Damn, I thought she graduated last year,” Becky said through bites of cereal.

“She did, but she’s taking up her Master’s Degree, and also taking care of the volleyball team. She was captain last year, you know,” said Mickie.

“Didn’t know that, actually,” said Becky. “Never came up.”

Sasha, who had been listening to the conversation casually, looked over from where she was reading a magazine. “Never came up, because you never talked to her about anything,” she said.

“Nah,” Becky said with a grin. “Too busy making her purr, I guess.”

Mickie sighed. She was used to Becky and Sasha’s shenanigans by know. The two had spent their first two years in the university trying to one-up each other in every way -- from grades to girls. Becky quickly built a reputation as a fuck boy -- or whatever a female version of that was. She was smooth and cool and she always made sure the woman had a good time, but she never stayed with the same girl long enough to build an actual relationship.

Sasha was as much of a player as Becky, so much that there was an unspoken competition between them as to who could get the most numbers by the end of the year. As far as Mickie knew, Sasha won when they were freshmen, but Becky surged ahead in their sophomore year. Mickie, as the resident den mother of their frat, was mostly fine with the pair’s antics. She had just one rule -- respect. If even one girl came up to her in tears, Becky and Sasha would never hear the end of it.

Amazingly, there had been none so far - or at least, none that Mickie knew of. The two were doing a surprisingly good job of being very upfront with all their conquests. Mickie was sure that some hearts had been broken over the past two years, but Becky and Sasha were unconcerned.

“Anyway,” Mickie said. “Just wanted to let you know, in case you run into her.”

“Oh I’m pretty sure I’ll run into her,” Becky grinned. “Wanna go over there later, Sash?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

*

_Later_

“What do you know about volleyball?” Sasha asked.

“Not much,” Becky admitted. “I’m a football gal.” A pause. “Why?”

“I’m just trying to think of a conversation starter.”

Becky stopped in her tracks. They were just about to cross the street, headed for the house across. “You mean your usual, ‘Sup, baby girl, I’m the Boss of these campus’ isn’t enough?” she asked, smirking.

“Maybe I’m thinking of a new line,” Sasha shot back hotly. “Whatever. Come on.”

Truthfully, neither of them had a plan set in stone, and they worked better that way. After two years, Becky and Sasha had developed a rhythm of sorts: they knew how to play off each other when flirting with women. They were each other’s wing-women; in the off chance that they went for the same girl, Becky and Sasha were competitive, but still ultimately respectful to each other. They would let the girl make the choice, and there would be no hard feelings between the two friends.

“Wait, so do we knock, or…?”

“We could knock,” Becky answered. “Oh shit, what if Natalya answers though? She might slam the door in my face.”

“You never told me how you ended things with her, you know,” Sasha said.

Becky shrugged. “The usual. T’was a fun week. But you know how it goes with me.” A week was long for Becky. As far as Sasha knew, the longest she’d ever stayed with one girl was two weeks, and that was back in freshman year.

At the door, they looked at each other, and shrugged again. Becky lifted up her hand to knock, but before she could do so, it opened. And because Becky was truly the luckiest woman alive, it was Natalya Neidhart who was holding the door open, with what seemed like a dozen women behind her.

“Well, look who it is.”

Becky was taken aback, but only very briefly. She grinned at the other woman. “Hey Nattie. Missed me?”

Nattie rolled her eyes. “Everyone, I want you to meet Becky Lynch. Yes, that Becky Lynch. The one who left me a mess in my bed, then did not answer my calls, which led directly to my poor performance in the state championships.”

Becky rolled _her_ eyes. “Come on now, Nattie.”

“And right beside her is Sasha Banks, whom you probably know by her nickname, the Boss. They are to be avoided at all costs,” Nattie continued, as if Becky hadn’t spoken.

This time, it was Sasha who smirked. “Never touched you, Nattie.”

“No, but I know you, Sasha,” Nattie responded. “You’re as big of a player as Becky here.” She turned to the girls behind her, who were watching the showdown with interest. “All of you, take a good look at them. This is the last time they’ll get this close to any of you.”

“Aw, Nattie,” Becky cooed. “We just wanted to be good neighbors, lass. Would’ve brought an apple pie and everythin’, if only we could bake.”

“You know what, Becky -”

“What’s going on?”

Becky and Sasha turned around at the new voice.

“Nattie? What’s going on?”

Becky let out a soft little “oh.” Apparently, not all of the volleyball players were there inside the house with Nattie.

A tall blonde, wearing a deliciously form-fitting Nike running top and shorts, was making her way to the door. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, and she was clutching a sunflower in her hand. ( _A sunflower? Here?_ , Becky thought) She smiled at Becky as she passed, before turning her attention to Nattie and her teammates.

Becky, as subtly as she could, gave the woman a once-over: she could tell immediately that this blonde was a tremendous athlete. Her arms were ripped, and her legs went on forever. When she turned around to enter the house, Becky could see rivulets of sweat dripping down what appeared to be the most toned back she had ever seen.

She had to blink twice to stop herself from staring.

“Hey,” the woman said softly, and Becky bit her lip at the sound of her voice. “You didn’t tell me we had visitors.”

“They’re not visitors,” Natalya said stiffly.

“Actually, we’re your neighbors,” Becky interjected, giving the tall blonde a genuine smile. “Hi. I’m Becky Lynch, I’m part of the frat just right across the street.”

The tall blonde flashed her another smile, and Becky felt blinded. And winded. They didn't run here, right? She and Sasha just walked - and leisurely, at that. Why was her heart hammering as though she’d run a mile?

“Hi,” the blonde responded, still smiling. “Charlotte Flair.” She stuck her right hand out, while still clutching the sunflower in the other. “Nice to meet you.”

Becky shook Charlotte’s hand, even as she saw Nattie staring daggers at her from inside the house. “Likewise.”

A cough, from right beside Becky. “Oh! Oh right. Uh, this is Sasha, Sasha Banks, she’s my friend, we belong to the same frat,” she said. Becky felt her face drop a bit when Sasha shook hands with Charlotte as well. ( _What the fuck?)_

“Uh, why are they outside? And why are you all here?” Charlotte said, looking at Nattie and her teammates. “You guys don’t wanna come in or --”

“NO!” Natalya all but shouted. “Becky and Sasha were just dropping by, weren’t you, Becky?”

The look on Natalya’s face was one Becky was familiar with, but she only ever saw it when they were in bed. She smirked; good to know that Nattie-cat could be as ferocious outside the sheets as she was in it. “Actually,” Becky said, feeling the beginnings of an idea coming in, “Actually, we wanted to invite you guys.”

This time, it was Sasha’s stare that Becky was feeling. “The frat is gonna have a… um … a back-to-school party,” Becky said. “This Friday.”

She grinned at Charlotte, who - to Becky’s delight - blushed. “I would absolutely love it if you came,” she said, knowing that Natalya would catch the double entendre, but Charlotte might not. “To the party, I mean.”

Charlotte opened her mouth to reply, but she never got the chance. “The answer is no,” Natalya said firmly. “Thank you for dropping by, Becky, Sasha.” With that, she leveled one last glare at Becky, then slammed the door.

Becky raised her eyebrows. “Well.” A beat. “That was certainly a thing that happened.”

Sasha was already making her way back to their own frat house. “Yo, wait up!” Becky yelled, walking briskly to catch up with her friend. “What the hell, Sash?”

“A party? On Friday? Are you insane?”

“Yes, yes, and no,” Becky responded as they entered the house. “Come on, Sasha. We can pull it off.”

“It’s already Monday. Convincing Mickie to let us do this will take _at least_ three days,” Sasha said. “Then there are invitations, food, drinks -- why the hell would you say that?”

Becky shrugged, taking off the cap that she was wearing and hanging it behind their door. “No reason.”

Sasha was staring at her with narrowed eyes. “Oh please, I saw how you were looking at that tall blonde.” She scoffed. “And shaking her hand, really Becky?”

“I was being polite.”

Sasha exploded in laughter. “You, polite? Fuck off. Women are polite to you, _Daddy Becky_. Never the other way around.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “You didn’t need to make up a story about some stupid house party to get that girl to talk to you,” Sasha said. “Even with Nattie there, this should be easy.”

Sometimes, Becky hated that she’d let Sasha be her friend, that she’d let the other woman get to know her on a deeply personal level. Oh, it was great to have Sasha as a friend: she was as ride or die as can be. But there were times when Sasha’s intimate knowledge of her interfered directly with Becky’s desire to be vague in her intentions and desires.

This was one of those times.

Sasha was still staring at her. “Don’t tell me you like, _like_ her. That Charlotte.”

Becky shrugged. “She just looks interesting, is all,” she mumbled.

“Oh yeah, she’s hot as fucking hell,” Sasha said. “I want those legs wrapped around my waist yesterday. Or over my shoulders. I’m not picky. And did you see her hands? Shit. I would love to - “

“Shut up,” Becky suddenly said through gritted teeth.

Sasha smirked in triumph. “I get it, Becks,” she said. They stood in silence for a few moments. “I’ll help you with that stupid party -- but you gotta make sure that the entire team is gonna be there.”

Now Becky was intrigued. “Why? Who did you see?” She had only given the girls a cursory glance, being too busy exchanging barbs with Nattie, and then afterward, she literally had only eyes for Charlotte.

“Well, there are a bunch of possibilities,” Sasha said mysteriously. “We’ll see on Friday.”

*

_Sometime later that night_

Becky had posted a “do not disturb" sign on the door leading up to the attic, which led directly to the balcony. For once, it wasn’t because she had brought a girl there; she just wanted to smoke in peace.

Why the _fuck_ did she say that they were holding a party on Friday night? They weren’t. There was no need to. Sasha was right: she could find a way to talk to Charlotte that didn’t involve them going through the hassle of a house party.

She groaned. There was no explanation for the words that came out of her mouth at that moment. It was as though her brain cells abandoned her the moment she saw Charlotte walk up to the house, that damned sunflower clutched in her hand. ( _That flower was so perfect for her though_ , Becky thought _._ )

A movement across the street caught her eye. She took a deep drag of her cigarette as the door opened, then nearly choked when Charlotte came into her view. Gone were the athletic wear; this time she was wearing an even shorter pair of shorts and a loose shirt. She was holding what appeared to be a pitcher of water, and was now making her way down their driveway and into the small garden in front of the house.

 _Oh, so that’s where she got them_ , Becky thought as she watched Charlotte sprinkle the water all over the bed of sunflowers. She didn’t even notice the tall stalks when she and Sasha went there.

Becky watched as Charlotte ran her fingers across the petals. The tall woman smiled, as if satisfied with how the flowers were growing. She straightened, then stretched her arms a bit, then turned around.

“Oh shit,” Becky muttered as Charlotte looked across the street. She thought for a moment that she was safe, that Charlotte wouldn’t look up, but then she did. And her face lit up when she saw Becky.

“Hey,” the blonde called out. “Becky, right?”

Becky hurriedly put out her cigarette, then leaned forward across the railing. “Yeah. Hi, Charlotte,” she replied, raising her voice just enough.

Charlotte was smiling at her again. “Hey, so that party -- were you serious about it?”

“Yeah, of course,” Becky said, now grinning. “You’re all invited. Tell your friends.”

Becky watched as the other woman ran her hand through her long blonde hair. “Okay,” Charlotte said. “Um. Thanks for the invite. I’m gonna have to check with Nattie though, if I can come.”

Hearing Nattie’s name deflated Becky’s mood all of a sudden. She shrugged and lit another cigarette. “Up to you, princess,” she said, her voice taking on a more snarky tone.

Charlotte frowned a bit. “Okay,” she said again, this time softly. “Good night, Becky.”

Becky took a deep drag of her new cigarette, then blew out a puff of smoke in Charlotte’s direction. “Good night, princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! For comments, suggestions, any reactions, find me on Tumblr at rebeccaquinoa.


	3. blindsided by a feeling that I've never known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let Nattie tell y'all about why Charlotte should stay away from Becky. The question is if Charlotte will even listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Charlotte-centric; the title is from LANY's "Malibu Nights."

_ Wednesday _

Charlotte dropped her gear bag to the floor of their room, then flopped, face first, to bed. Her roommate, Bayley, was already in the same position. She groaned loudly, feeling her shoulders and arms burning. Her hamstrings were on fire, too. So were her calves. She groaned again.

“Jesus god and all the gay saints,” Charlotte said. “Why did I ever decide to play volleyball.”

Bayley lifted her head then answered: “Because you can jump high and hit hard, and the sight of other players panicking when you’re in the air gives you great pleasure.”

“Oh yeah,” Charlotte said. “That.”

She turned to look at Bayley, who still had scuff marks on her arms from all the balls that she dug up today. Charlotte was an open hitter, while Bayley was the libero -- in all honesty, the other girl had the hardest job on their squad. “Hey Bayley,” she said. “You want me to get ice for your arms, or what?”

“Maybe later,” Bayley said. “I wanna take a shower first.”

“I would love a hot bath,” Charlotte said dreamily. “We should ask Nattie if we can install a bathtub.”

Bayley laughed. “She would love that.”

They were quiet for a few moments, before Bayley stood up, stretched -- “Oh god my bones hate me right now" -- and began to collect her toiletries. Charlotte closed her eyes briefly. 

“Hey,” she said. “Speaking of Nattie. Uh… have you asked her about the party next door? On Friday?”

“What about it?”

“Well,” Charlotte said carefully, “Nattie said we couldn’t go.”

“She’s not our parent, Charlotte,” Bayley said. “She can’t forbid us.”

“I mean technically, she speaks for coach when coach is not here,” Charlotte said.

“Char, come on,” Bayley said. “Nattie can’t tell us what to do during our free time. And you know that we’re free on Friday. A bunch of us already decided to go.”

“A bunch?”

“Me, Mella, and Sonya,” Bayley said. “Naomi said she might go too, and she’ll bring Jimmy with her. Plus maybe Sarah and Liv and Ruby, although Ruby says she’s still thinking about it.”

“Uh. That’s more than half the team,” Charlotte said.

Bayley looked at her roommate. She and Charlotte were rivals in high school, having played for opposing teams, but grew close when they were paired together as rookies. Now, she could safely say that the tall blonde was one of her best friends. So, she wasn’t afraid to speak frankly to Charlotte.

“Char, I told you,” she said. “We don’t have to follow  _ all _ of Nattie’s decrees.” Bayley grabbed her towel and bathrobe, and made her way to their bathroom. “She just acts like she’s our mom, but she’s not. You have to go with us. It’ll be fun!”

“Yeah,” Charlotte said, thinking back to that Monday night, when Becky Lynch had stared at her so intensely, her face lit up by moonlight and her cigarette, and obscured by smoke. “Fun.”

*

_ Thursday _

“Good practice, girls,” Nattie said as they entered the house. “We’re off tomorrow, don’t forget, but on Saturday we have weights in the morning.”

There was a chorus of “Thanks, Nattie!” before the team dispersed. Already, Natalya could hear the arguments beginning as to who could use the shower first. Another argument on what to eat for dinner. And another on whether they can still catch a movie that night.

“This is like herding cats,” she muttered.

“Ahem.”

Startled, Natalya looked up to see Charlotte staring at her, looking somewhat unsure. It was an unfamiliar look on the other woman’s face -- Charlotte was their rising star, one of the few players who was sure to get a starting spot. Natalya had been very impressed with Charlotte during the latter’s rookie year, and she fully expected the taller girl to improve as the year went on.

But now there was an uncertain look on Charlotte’s face, as if she wanted to ask something but was scared as to how to go about it. Natalya put on her most charming, welcoming smile. “What’s up, Charlotte?” she asked.

“I wanted to ask you something,” said Charlotte. “I know you said last Monday that we couldn’t go to that party that the frat across the street is hosting.”

“Yes, and?”

“Well. I was wondering if we could go.”

Natalya stared. “Charlotte,” she said carefully. “I only said you guys couldn’t go so Becky and Sasha would go away. But if you want to go over there,” at this point, the older woman shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

Charlotte frowned, then crossed her arms. “You seemed serious when you told them no,” she said.

Why, oh why did she volunteer to be team manager this year, Natalya wondered. She mirrored Charlotte’s pose, then said: “I didn’t want you girls to go there, because I know what kind of people are hosting that party. Charlotte, let me tell you something. Sasha Banks? Bad news. Becky Lynch? Even worse.”

“Why?”

Natalya bit her lip. How was she supposed to explain that Becky Lynch had charmed her way into her bed, made her feel like no other woman or man had managed to do before -- or since -- then swanned out of her life without so much as a goodbye? Oh, Becky had warned her, of course. “ _ I’m not looking for anything serious, Natalya _ ,” she had cooed, in that raspy voice that still did  _ things _ to her. “ _ I’m just here for a good time. _ ”

Natalya thought she was fine with just having a “good time" with Becky. But there was something about the Irish woman -- Becky was just so  _ charming _ . She made Nattie feel so adored in the very brief time that they spent together. Looking back, Nattie realized that their entire  _ thing _ \-- it seemed stupid to call it a relationship -- had lasted all of a week.

“She’s just… ugh,” Nattie groaned. “Okay, sit down.”

Charlotte looked like she wanted to object, but then abruptly sat down on the couch. Natalya sat across from the younger woman, then said: “Charlotte, I don’t want you to think any less of me because of what I’m about to tell you.”

“I won’t, Nattie,” was the quick response.

“I already knew about Becky,” Natalya said after a brief pause. “She, uh, I know she’s slept with some of the girls from the lacrosse team, and some from the basketball team, too. She’s a player of the highest order, Charlotte. And I don’t mean that as a compliment.”

Nattie took a deep breath. “And I still slept with her. It was maybe a month before the national tournament last year? I was just so stressed with everything, being captain and all that, and she was just … there. So, so, so charming. She listened to me when I was venting about coach, about the team, about the tournament, and afterward she fucked me so hard I forgot everything I was stressed about.”

Charlotte winced. “I … did not need to know that part.”

“Oh, please, you’re already sitting there, might as well get the whole story,” Nattie said dismissively. “Anyway, one day I texted her, no response. Called her, no response. This went on for maybe three days, until I ran into her somewhere.”

The memories of their exchange still caused a pang of pain to go through Natalya. “She pretty much brushed me off, said she had fun, but she was done with me,” Nattie said. “One week. That was how long it lasted.”

Charlotte closed her eyes. “She sounds like an asshole,” she finally said.

“Oh yeah,” Nattie responded. “And believe me, Becky won’t deny that. She knows very well what she’s doing. She makes no apologies for it. And honestly? In hindsight, she already warned me that she was going to do it. I just didn’t listen.”

“It wasn’t your fault that she was a douchebag, Nattie,” Charlotte said.

“No, it wasn’t,” Natalya responded. “But I could have gone about it in a smarter way. And definitely, I shouldn’t have let her affect the way I played, but I did, and that’s on me.”

“And the other girl? Sasha?”

“Becky’s partner in crime,” Natalya said. “I guess I wasn’t her type, or Becky had already called dibs, or whatever. But she never even flirted with me.” She looked at Charlotte. “They’re birds of a feather, Charlotte. They just want to have fun. Becky kept saying that she was here for a good time. And you know what? I did have a good time.”

“I’m not going to stop you from going there tomorrow, if you want to,” Natalya continued, and now her voice was soft, gentle. “But I just want you to know that Becky just wants  _ one _ thing from you. She’s going to charm the hell out of you. She’ll give you all her attention, she’ll make you feel special. She’ll make you feel like you’re the only woman in the room.”

“And then, when she’s bored, she’ll just stop. And it won’t be your fault. That’s just how it works with her.”

Charlotte nodded. She thought back to Monday night, when a shadow had crossed Becky’s face upon the mention of Nattie. She wondered if the other woman had any regrets about how she had treated their team manager.

She remembered how Becky had shaken her hand, how she had smiled. She remembered how the moonlight gave Becky’s features a strange, almost ethereal glow. 

She remembered the way Becky’s voice had caught, when she called Charlotte “princess.”

“I’m going tomorrow,” Charlotte said, finally. “With Bayley and Mella and some of the other girls.”

“All right,” Nattie said. She wasn’t surprised. Becky had a way of getting what she wanted. “Charlotte,” she began, then hesitated. “Be careful,” the older woman finally said. “Just… be careful with her.”

“I’ll be careful, Nattie,” Charlotte promised. She smiled at the older woman, and added: “Thank you.”

Natalya watched as Charlotte made her way to her room, then closed her eyes and leaned back at the couch. Her hands were shaking; she balled them into fists and dug her nails in.

All of a sudden, she felt so very tired.


	4. you move through the room, like breathing was easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party, a conversation, a challenge laid down by one Boss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part features cameos from Alexa Bliss, Paige, and (if you squint) Mandy Rose. The title is, of course, from Angels by The XX.

“If I may say so,” Becky said, grinning, “We outdid ourselves.”

The frat house -- “Organizational housing, Becky, Jesus do you want us to get suspended?” Mickie had said -- was decked out in decor, there was plenty of food, and most importantly, there was plenty of alcohol. Becky and Sasha had worked double time over the past couple of days to get everything ready. Word had spread quickly, and they were expecting a full house that night.

“Uh-huh,” Sasha said. “So, do you think they’re coming?”

“Who?” Becky said, deliberately misunderstanding Sasha’s question.

The shorter girl let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh you know that shit don’t work on me, Becky. I know we’re only throwing this party for  _ one  _ girl. So, is she coming?”

Becky frowned. “I mean. I guess? I haven’t seen her since… that day. Which is strange since we’re literally neighbors,” the Irish woman said. 

“Well, you better hope she comes, and she brings her friends with her,” Sasha said. “Because I’m planning on getting some tonight, preferably with one ‘em.”

“You still haven’t told me which one of them caught your eye, lass,” Becky said.

Sasha shot her a look that could only be described as hungry. “Who said there was just one?”

*

_ Party time _

Becky has a  _ uniform _ that she wears to parties. Crop top, showing off her abs, loose pants, and whichever pair of kicks caught her attention that day. She capped off the look with one of her many snapbacks, perched backwards on her head. The first time she had gone to a party with Sasha, the other woman had looked at her and said: “You look like a fuckboy.” Becky had just grinned.

Tonight, she was in her element, nursing a drink while scanning the room. She was waiting for Charlotte Flair, yes, but in case Charlotte didn’t show up, she needed a Plan B.

Plan B, tonight, was looking like Alexa Bliss.

“Hey Lexie,” Becky said as the petite blonde approached her, with a sway in her hips, a drink in her hand, and a glint in her eyes. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“A party thrown by you  _ and _ the Boss? Come on. I knew I had to make an appearance,” Alexa answered, before inching ever closer to Becky until there was no space between them.

She looked good, Becky had to admit, even as she tried to hold Alexa at arm’s length. Form-fitting tank top, the tightest pair of leather pants that she had ever seen, and boots that made her appear just a little taller than her five-foot height. Becky had slept with Alexa before, more than once even, and she’d always had a good time with the tiny blonde.

“Hey,” Becky said, “I’m gonna be upfront with you, Lexie. I’m actually waiting for someone to arrive.” She gave the other woman an impish grin. “But in case she doesn’t show, well, you know which one is my room, right?”

Alexa debated throwing her drink at Becky’s face, before sighing. Being Becky’s second option was better than nothing, honestly. She wouldn’t deny it: the Irish woman was still the best lay she’d had, and Alexa had missed her. “Sure, Becky,” Alexa said, her voice quiet. “Just let me know, okay?”

“Oh you got it, babe,” Becky said, before grabbing Alexa’s drink and draining it. She gave Alexa the swiftest of kisses on the lips, before moving deeper into the room.

Alexa touched her lips with fingertips, and sighed, even as she tightened her grip on the glass that Becky had so casually handed back to her. She wondered who it was, the woman that Becky was waiting for, the one who relegated her as the second choice.

She wanted to hate whoever it was. But at that moment, as she watched Becky flirt with another one of her guests, all Alexa felt was sympathy.

*

Charlotte immediately coughed upon entering the house. The room teemed with people and smelled of smoke and alcohol, and vibrated with loud music. She grabbed Bayley’s hand immediately, and did not want to let go.

“Charlotte, come on,” Bayley said, tugging her hand away. “We’re here to unwind, remember? Don’t be a wuss.”

‘Wuss’ was a poor word choice on Bayley’s part, but if their happy-go-lucky libero was actively trying to get her to loosen up, then Charlotte must be more tense than she thought. She had told Nattie that she was going to the party, but the truth was Charlotte went back-and-forth all night long before Bayley had put her foot down and all but dragged her out of the house.

So here was Charlotte, clad in what she felt was a nice enough blouse and a tight pair of jeans, with ankle length boots. Her teammates had gone all out; Carmella’s dress was so tight, it looked painted on. Naomi had worn something that showed off her incredible abs. Even Bayley was wearing something cute.

Charlotte looked around the house; even in the strange lights she could see that the women present had dressed to impress. She wanted to go back to their place and change her clothes. She was worried that her current outfit would not be enough to draw Becky’s attention.

_ Wait, what? _

The tall blonde bit her lip, then let go of Bayley’s hand. “Where do we go?” she asked.

“Well I want to look around first, maybe see some people I know,” said Bayley. “I’m sure there are some people here that we’re familiar with - oh look, there’s Finn.” Finn Balor was one of their classmates, but he was better friends with Bayley than he was with Charlotte. “I’m gonna go talk to him. You’ll be fine, right?”

Bayley didn’t wait for an answer before going after Finn. And Charlotte was by herself. 

Honestly, she didn’t like parties. Charlotte was an introvert at heart, and events like this one tend to give her a headache. But she couldn’t not go -- not when Becky had invited her personally.

_ Where even is Becky? _ She thought.

“Hey.”

Charlotte turned around, and saw the girl that Becky was with -- Sasha, that was her name, right? -- smiling at her. She smiled tentatively back, and said: “Hi. Um, nice party.”

_ For something that we put together in three days, just so Becky could fuck you? It is pretty good _ , Sasha thought grimly. She grinned again at the taller girl. “Yeah, it’s fun right? We’re so glad that you came, Charlotte,” she said.

Sasha could see how uncomfortable Charlotte was; it was clear that this was not her scene. As subtly as she could, Sasha scanned the room for Becky and sighed inwardly when she found her friend.  _ Of course _ .

“Hey, Sasha,” Charlotte said. “Um, I’m actually looking for Becky. She invited me, and I… I guess I just want to thank her.”

For three seconds, Sasha debated lying to the girl. She could tell her Becky was in her room, still preparing. Or at the makeshift bar. Or at the balcony. Or anywhere else. But only for three seconds.

“Becky?” she said, lifting a hand that was holding a cup of beer. “Over there.”

Somehow, Charlotte had missed the couch at the center of the room, what with all the guests milling around. For a moment, she couldn’t see who was sitting -- and then the crowd appeared to part, and she saw Becky sitting in the middle of the couch, with a gorgeous, pale, dark-haired woman sitting on her lap. There was another woman snuggled close to her, a tiny blonde with streaks of pink in her hair, and behind her was yet another blonde -- clad a shimmering gold dress that Charlotte knew she could never pull off.

“Oh,” Charlotte said, wincing when she saw Becky beckon to another girl from across the room -- this one tall and willowy, wearing the most eclectic outfit she has ever seen. She sighed and turned back to Sasha, who had a speculative look on her face.

“Becky’s just… being friendly,” Sasha said, just as the redhead in question takes a shot of tequila then licks salt from Golden Girl’s cleavage. Sasha winced a bit. “Uh. Very friendly.” 

Charlotte bit her lip, then glanced at the door. Sasha could see that she was planning to make an exit, and made an executive decision.  _ Oh Becky, you owe me so much for this. _

“Hey, so I actually wanted to talk to you,” Sasha said, lying through her teeth. Charlotte was gorgeous, true, but it was not the tall blonde who had caught her eye. “I used to play some volleyball in high school. Who’s your setter now?”

It was absolutely the right question to ask. Charlotte’s face lit up, and she said: “Oh, it’s Ember! Ember Moon. She’s not here, but yeah, she’s our starting setter.”

“I was a setter in high school,” Sasha said casually. “I only stopped in my senior year. But I still love it. Any chance I can watch your games this year?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Charlotte answered. “Our season doesn’t start until September though. But if you want tickets, just tell me!”

She may not be into Charlotte, but Sasha could understand why Becky was so drawn to this woman. The way Charlotte was smiling reminded her of the sun: everything felt brighter when she was happy. Charlotte pulled out her phone and said: “I’ll give you my number so you can just text me if --”

“Hey, Charlotte!”

_ Right on cue _ , Sasha thought. Becky always seems to have a sixth sense as to when Sasha was about to close a deal, and here she was swanning in just as Charlotte was about to give her number. She smirked at her best friend, who was admittedly looking fucking delicious in her outfit that night. Even Sasha couldn’t deny that Becky looked almost unfairly hot, especially with her abs shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

“I’m so glad you made it,” Becky said, smiling at Charlotte, who couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hi, Becky,” she said. “Yeah, I arrived a while ago with  my teammates but they…” She made a vague gesture across the room, then looked at Sasha in gratitude. “Sasha here has been keeping me company.”

At that, Becky looked at Sasha, a look that would send shivers of fear down any person’s spine — any person other than Sasha Banks, that is. This was Becky laying her claim, and Sasha knew it.

“I got you, Becks,” Sasha murmured, the knocked back her drink. “Hey I’ll see you around, okay, Charlotte? I’ll come watch your game for sure.”

With that, she made her leave. She’d done her role in this; it was time to get hers.

“Sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived,” Becky said, smiling softly at Charlotte. She gave Charlotte a subtle once-over, the she took the taller woman’s hand and drew her closer. “You look … amazing.”

Even through the dim lights, Becky could see that Charlotte was blushing. “Um. Thanks. And uh...It’s okay,” Charlotte said. “I guess you were… busy,” she added, remembering the three women who were plastered close to Becky while she was sitting on the couch.

Becky squeezed her hand. “I’m never too busy for you, Charlotte, I promise,” she said, just loud enough for Charlotte to hear; the blonde woman’s blush became even fiercer. “Hey, you want a drink? We’ve got a full bar, and Nikki’s a great bartender.”

Charlotte shook her head, acutely aware of her hand still clasped in Becky’s. “I don’t - I don’t really drink,” she stammered.

“That’s okay,” Becky said, leading Charlotte to the makeshift bar and waiting until she was seated. “We’ll get you something non-alcoholic. Nikki!” 

Within seconds, a tumbler of whiskey slid to their space, along with a tall glass of what appeared to be orange juice. “A toast?” Becky said.

“To what?”

Becky winked. “To making new friends,” she said, brushing a kiss across Charlotte’s knuckles before finally — finally — letting go of the blonde woman’s hand, and raising her glass.

Charlotte could feel her skin tingling where Becky’s lips ghosted across it. In an attempt to hide her nerves, she took a sip of the juice, and tried to ignore the stares of the women in the room. She could  _ feel _ them looking at her in anger; if looks could kill, she’d drop dead any second.

But what did those angry stares matter, if Becky was looking at her like she was the sun? The other woman’s gaze was fixed on her, a look that could only be described as intense, yet somehow still tender — as though she was the only one Becky could see.

“So, volleyball, huh?” Becky asked, swirling her drink. “Your season starts in a month, right?”

Somewhat surprised, Charlotte asked: “How did you know that?”

Becky just shrugs. “I want to watch a game. I mean, I gotta admit, I don’t know much about volleyball, haven’t watched it a lot, but it does seem interesting.”

Charlotte levels her with a look. She wants to ask -  _ You slept with Nattie last year and didn’t come to a single game? _ She wants to ask -  _ Are you seriously just parroting what Sasha said? I thought you were smoother than that. _

Becky stared back. Slowly, her mouth turns up in a smirk. “Charlotte,” she said, lowly, “I want to watch  _ you _ play.”

_ Oh _ . Charlotte closed her eyes briefly. “Well,” she said. “The season won’t start until next month. And you can ask the Athletics Office for tickets.”

Becky furrowed her brow. “I can ask the what now?”

“The Athletics —"

“Charlotte?”

Becky gritted her teeth. She glanced up to see a tall woman come up to them; she was cute, with her hair pulled to the side in a ponytail. But whoever she was, she was seriously cutting into Becky’s game.

“Hey,” Charlotte said. “Becky, this is my teammate, Bayley.”

Becky quickly arranged her features to a more welcoming nature. “Hello, Bayley,” she said. “Hope you’re enjoying our little gathering.”

“I did,” Bayley said, grinning. “But now Charlotte and I have to leave.”

“What?” Becky said, standing up. “Already?”

“We have practice tomorrow morning,” Charlotte says. She could tell that Becky wants to say something else, but before the other woman could do so, Charlotte brushes a kiss on her cheek. 

“I guess I’ll see  you around, Becky?”

Becky is shocked into silence; she had not expected Charlotte to do that. Before she can speak, Charlotte and Bayley are moving, walking towards their door; Becky could see a bunch of girls follow them out.

Charlotte didn’t even look back.

She grips her tumbler of whiskey tighter, closes her eyes, then drains the drink in one gulp. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then makes her way across the room, through the crowd.

A hand on her arm stops her.

“Daddy,” Alexa whines, sounding drunk. “I thought you said -“

“Not now, Alexa,” Becky snaps back. “I’m not in the mood.”

Alexa pouts but lets her go; Becky continues stomping her way through the room when she’s stopped again, this time by the pale, dark-haired woman whom she had on her lap earlier in the night.

“Are we going to your room already, Daddy?” the woman cooed.

“No, Paige,” Becky said shortly. “I want to be alone.”

“But Daddy, you said —"

Snarling, Becky turns to Paige and grips her arm. The other woman whimpers. “Paige,” Becky murmurs. “Not tonight, okay, babe? I’ll make it up to you, but not tonight.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turns and walks away again.

*

“You okay?”

“No.”

Becky takes a drag from her cigarette, and then offers it to Sasha. The other girl takes it without question. They were at the balcony, Sasha having given Becky time to get herself together before following her best friend.

“What happened?”

“I think Nattie may have warned her about me,” Becky said. “I mean… she was into it, but she was also holding back. Fuck… she kissed me on the cheek then left like it didn’t mean anything.”

“So?” Sasha said. “Who cares, Becks? Alexa was literally right there. And Paige. And Mandy. Who cares about this chick?”

Becky tries to light another cigarette, and curses when her hands shake. “Fuck it, Sasha, I care, okay? I want her.” She finally lights the cig, and takes a deep drag again. “I saw her right there,” Becky says, pointing across the street, to where the volleyball team’s house was dark and silent. “She was pouring water over her stupid sunflowers and I had never wanted anyone more.”

“Fuck it, Becky,” said Sasha. “She’s just another volleyball chick. You already got Nattie. Come on.”

“I don’t know what it is with this girl,” Becky said softly. “I don’t know why but -“

“She didn’t fall all over you like every other girl on campus?” Sasha supplied.

“Maybe,” Becky admitted. “But it’s not just that. She … intrigues me. And in a way that Nattie and Alexa and Paige never did.”

“What if she’s straight?” Sasha asked.

Becky choked on her cigarette, then smirked. “Mandy also thought she was straight, until she was riding my face.”

Sasha let out a loud bark of laughter. “There she is, Daddy Becks. Thought we lost you for a while there.”

They were silent for a few minutes, both lost in their thoughts. Finally, Sasha asked: “You gonna give up?”

“On Charlotte?” Becky asked. When Sasha nodded, Becky sighed. “I don’t know. I’m intrigued by her but… Is it worth it? I mean, if I snap my fingers I can have Alexa in my room right now, and she’ll do pretty much anything I want at this point.”

“But that’s not what you want anymore, right?” Sasha said. “That’s too  _ easy _ .”

Sasha had known, had always known that this day would come — that sooner or later someone would arrive that would make things difficult for either one of them. After all, over the past two years, things have been easy; by the end of their second year the girls were coming to  _ them _ , they barely had to work.

But here was Charlotte Flair, with her sweet smile and her love of sunflowers, her adorable shyness. Sasha highly doubted that the volleyball player was even aware of how much she’s thrown Becky for a loop.

“Come on, Becky,” Sasha said. “When was the last time a girl actually made you  _ work _ for it?”

Becky sighed. “What if I don’t want to work for it?” she whined.

Sasha laughed again. “I never thought you’d back down from a challenge.”

Becky turned to look at her best friend. “Is that what it is? A challenge?”

“Maybe.”

“What are the terms, exactly? Do I have to fuck her?”

“Well, you obviously  _ want  _ to fuck her,” Sasha snarked. “But you know what? Maybe we’ll settle for cracking her shell.”

“How do we know when we’ve done that???” 

“Oh, we’ll know,” Sasha said mysteriously.

Becky thought deeply for a moment. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll take it. Crack Charlotte Flair’s shell. Got it.”

Another moment of silence, as if they were cementing the agreement. Finally, Becky asked: “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You said you had your eye on a couple of girls, but you’re here with me. Couldn’t close the deal, either?”

Sasha laughed, this time bitter. “That tall chick who got Charlotte? Bayley?” At Becky’s nod, she continued. “I asked her if she wanted to go upstairs with me. Turns out, she’s dating one of her teammates -- Carmella. So … I asked them both if they wanted to go upstairs with me.”

“Damn, Sasha!”

“They said no and left.”

“Damn, Sasha.”

“This party was a bitch to plan and to execute, and what did we get for it? Blue balls,” Sasha said, sounding forlorn.

“Blue ovaries,” Becky corrected. Sasha laughed. “You can still go down and get some, you know. I’m sure Alicia wouldn’t mind.”

“Nah,” Sasha said. There was a look on her face thay Becky hadn’t seen in a while. “I have something else — someone else — in mind.”

Becky smirked, then put out her cigarette. “Alright, Boss,” she murmured. “I know what you want.”


	5. maybe you've been a storm all this time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Becky begins to make her move. The question is if it will work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm publishing this, by request, before Evolution. The title is from LANY's "Hericane."

“What are you doing?”

“Researching.”

“We don’t have any assignments yet.”

“It’s not for school.”

“Then what is it for, Becky?”

Becky moved a little out of the way, to show Sasha her laptop. Upon seeing what Becky was “researching,” Sasha snorted.

“Really? Basics of volleyball?” she said, sounding quite skeptical. “That’s the tactic you’re taking?”

Becky shrugged. “I’m making an effort,” she said. “Also, I don’t want to sound like an idiot when I go to their practice.”

Sasha did a double-take. “You’re going to their practice?” At Becky’s nod, she continued: “You’re going all the way to the other side of campus to watch the volleyball team’s practice, just for Charlotte?”

“Yes, Sasha, oh my god,” Becky said, her tone taking on a bite of impatience. “It’s not hard to understand.”

“No, it’s not,” Sasha said. She took a closer look at what Becky was reading, then scoffed. “You don’t need to read that, Becks. Just ask me what you wanna know.”

"’Scuse me? Why would I ask  _ you _ about volleyball?”

This time, it was Sasha’s turn to shrug. “I played in high school. All-State in my third year,” she said flippantly, as if this was not relevant information. “Tore up my shoulder before senior year, so I stopped.”

Becky looked positively aghast. “We’ve been friends for three years, how has this never come up?” she wondered. “Ugh, nevermind. Just tell me what I need to know.” 

*

On Monday, Becky was prepared. She charmed the volleyball team’s practice information out of one of the players -- Dana, her name was, a rookie libero -- and on a whim, decided to buy a package of protein bars. She thought of flowers, but decided that she didn’t want to come on too strongly on Day 1.

Sasha had nearly burst a vein from laughing when she saw Becky putting the protein bars in her bag. “Goddamn, Becks, you out of practice at this, huh?” she said. “She’s going to laugh you out of the gym if you give her that.”

“I am  _ not _ out of practice,” Becky shot back. “Shut up. She’ll appreciate them.”

Charlotte did  _ not _ appreciate them. Actually, Becky didn’t even manage to give them to the tall blonde on that day. She snuck into the gym midway through practice, and sat quietly on the bleachers. She watched as the team went through an intense training session, and could not help but be amazed at the display of athleticism and skill.

More specifically, she could not help but be amazed at  _ Charlotte’s _ display of athleticism and skill. Sasha had briefly explained that Charlotte was one of the best players in the team, but Becky did not realize what that meant until she was watching the tall blonde leap through the air, whip her arm over her head, then bring it down with such tremendous force that her body folded in half.

She watched Charlotte do this once, twice, dozens of times. Becky could not take her eyes off of her.

Oh, she took note of the other women -- she recalled Bayley, the one who caught Sasha’s eye, and her girlfriend, Carmella. She noticed Dana, the cute, petite rookie who was only too eager to give out their practice schedule in exchange for a smile. And she even saw Nattie, overseeing the girls like the den mother that she was.

But it was Charlotte who kept drawing her attention. Charlotte, who smiled even through the most strenuous drill that their coaches put them through, who laughed when she was made to do extra work at the net. Becky saw how quickly Charlotte offered a bottle of water to her teammates during a break in practice, how she took her time to teach another girl the intricacies of the new drill they were running.

And Becky saw the ferocity in her eyes when the team played in a scrimmage, the competitiveness and fire and sheer brutality with which Charlotte played. 

Becky could not take her eyes off of her.

*

When it was over -- after two of the most exhausting hours that Becky had ever sat through -- she made her way down the bleachers and near the exit, to where she knew the team would pass on their way out. She winked at Dana, ignored the rest, then smiled widely as Charlotte made her way.

“Hey.”

The look on Charlotte’s face was one of utter surprise. Her eyebrows raised almost comically, then said: “Becky? What are you doing here?”

Becky shrugged. “Wanted to see you.”

A smile broke out on Charlotte’s face, but she was quick to school her features into a more neutral facade. “Well, you’ve seen me,” she said. 

“I was actually hoping that we could talk for a bit,” Becky said. “I feel like our conversation was cut short at the party.”

Charlotte glanced over to where Nattie was observing them. She fidgeted a bit with the strap of her gym bag, then opened it up to take out -- and here, Becky could not believe her luck -- a protein bar. “I’m kind of in a hurry, Becky,” the tall blonde said. “We still gotta go back to the house, and I have -- I have homework.”

It was a flimsy excuse, and they both knew it. But Becky could be patient. She smiled at Charlotte, noting the sheen of sweat that coated her face and neck, the tendrils of blonde hair that were plastered on her forehead. For a moment, Becky imagined Charlotte, sweaty and exhausted, that golden hair spread out over her bed. She had to shake her head for a bit, before saying: “I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed, as if confused. “I … I guess?”

“I’ll be here,” Becky promised. She offered Charlotte another grin, then saluted Nattie, who had watched the entire scene with a frown on her face.

*

On Tuesday, Becky brought chocolates. She waited for Charlotte at the exit again, then smoothly offered up the treat to the player. Charlotte beamed at the sight, then took a step back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Becky,” she said, and truly Charlotte sounded regretful. “We’re on a strict diet with the team, so… I can’t accept that.”

Inwardly, Becky groaned in frustration, but she refused to show it. “I mean, it’s okay,” she said. “But I was really hoping we could talk this time, Charlotte, if that’s okay.”

She could have sworn that a flash of panic appeared on Charlotte’s face. “I don’t know, Becky,” the volleyball player said. “I mean… I’d love to, but I’m really tired.”

“Yeah, your practice today looked even more intense than yesterday, and I didn’t think that was possible,” Becky said.

“You … watched us?” Charlotte asked, slowly.

“Yeah,” Becky replied with a shrug. “I mean, mostly you. You… you’re incredible. I didn’t know humans can jump that high -- or look that good while in the air.”

Charlotte looked stunned at Becky’s words. “I didn’t see you there,” she murmured. She glanced back at Nattie, who was tapping her wrist with her finger. “I… Becky, we gotta go back to the house,” she said, sounding apologetic. “I know you wanted to talk, but…"

“Maybe tomorrow?” Becky said, smirk firmly in place.

“Maybe,” Charlotte said. She flashed a smile as she walked away, a frowning Nattie on her heels.

*

On Wednesday, Becky pulled out all stops, and brought flowers. She even dressed up a bit, foregoing her usual loose cargo pants for a tighter pair that showed off her ass. Dana told her that practice would be a little lighter today; she was determined to get to talk to Charlotte this time.

When Charlotte saw the flowers, her face lit up in a way that truly took Becky’s breath away. “Are those for me?” she asked, somewhat shyly, unsure.

“Are you kidding? Of course,” Becky said, handing the blooms to Charlotte. 

“Thank you, Becky,” she said, looking shy still, but clearly pleased. “What’s the occasion, though?”

“No occasion,” Becky replied with a smile. “But I was hoping I could finally talk to you.”

Charlotte’s smile faltered, and she sighed. She clutched the flowers tighter, then said: “I don’t know, Becky.”

Becky frowned a bit. “Am I coming on too strong here? Because I really do just wanna talk, Charlotte.” That was a blatant lie, of course, but Becky was willing to fudge the truth a bit to get to her objective.

“No! I mean, I appreciate the flowers. But… I don’t know what’s going on here, Becky,” said Charlotte. “I’m not sure I can give you what you want.”

“A little conversation with you is all I want, lass.”

This time, the smile on Charlotte’s face was sad. “I’m not sure I believe you, Becky,” she said quietly. Out of pure impulse, she brushed a kiss to Becky’s cheek. “I have to go. Goodbye.”

Becky watched as Charlotte walked away, to where her teammates were waiting for her. She could feel the frustration rising in her, an utterly foreign sensation. Had she misread this entire situation? Or was Sasha right -- was she out of practice? The past year, everything had come  _ easy _ . She and Sasha would go to a party, and have their pick of women. It was as if the muscles that Becky used to  _ woo _ the ladies had atrophied.

“Oh, Becky.”

At the sound of her name, she whirled around. “Nattie,” she said, curtly.

“She’s not going to be one of your girls, Becky,” Nattie said. “I told her all about you, and she knows better than to fall for your charms.”

At those words, Becky felt her frustration drain away, ever so slowly. She could feel something different now, something that felt like adrenaline, like vibrations in her veins, like  _ fire. _

She smirked at Nattie. “We’ll see about that, shall we?”

*

There was no practice on Thursday, and Becky spent the time rethinking her strategy. Sasha had laughed and said “I told you so” when Becky told her of the protein bar fiasco. “It was even the exact same brand,” Becky had grumbled, as Sasha nearly fell off her bed from laughing. 

So now, she was at the balcony, leaning against the wall and trying her best not to look at the house across the street. The sunflowers that Charlotte had watered a couple of weeks ago were still in full bloom; Becky wondered if Charlotte had planted them herself or if she had just decided to take care of the flowers.

“What are you doing?”

Usually, it was only Sasha who would dare interrupt Becky’s musings whenever she was at the balcony. But this time, it was Mickie James, their frat’s resident den mother, who had climbed all the way to her safe space.

“I’m thinking,” Becky said, making space for Mickie.

“No shit,” said Mickie. “I meant, what are  you doing with that volleyball player from across the street?”

Becky glanced at the older woman. “How did you know about that?”

“Word gets around.  _ Daddy Becky _ attending volleyball practice for three days in a row, and leaving by her lonesome every time? I hear things, you know that, and this has become a  _ thing _ ,” Mickie answered.

“It’s not a thing,” Becky said. “I mean, at least not yet. She’s proving to be a tough one.”

“You mean she’s not falling at your feet and throwing her bra in your face?” 

“Unfortunately, no.”

“That’s new,” Mickie said. “So… who’s next?”

“What do you mean?” Becky asked, genuinely confused.

“I mean, if she’s not falling for it, I assume you’re moving on to her teammates, right? I’ve seen that team -- they have some ridiculously hot girls.” Mickie offered Becky a smirk. “I knew you’re done with the basketball team and the lacrosse team -- I just assumed that you’re gonna be all about the volleyball team this year.”

Becky looked truly shocked. “Wait, is that what you think?” she asked. “That I’m planning to go through the team one by one?”

“Well, isn’t it?” 

Becky was aware that her mouth was open; she was gaping at Mickie in stunned silence. Finally, she muttered: “Is that what  _ everyone _ thinks?”

Mickie looked amused. “Yes, Becky. Come on. It’s what you do.”

Her eyebrows were knitted together in frustration. “That’s not… that’s not what this is about, Mickie,” Becky said, her voice tinged with anger. “I’m not planning on sleeping with every single member of that team. Just --”

“Just Charlotte Flair, right?” Mickie said. This time, there was a knowing look on her face that greatly annoyed Becky.

“Yes,” she answered shortly. “Now, if you can give me some privacy, please? I have to think of ways to get her to do just that.”

Mickie laughed, clapped Becky once on the shoulder, then moved to leave. “Good luck, Becks. I feel like you’re gonna need it.”

*

According to Dana, on Fridays they hold scrimmages with a local team. That meant going to a different venue, one that Becky had no access too. She resigned herself to waiting until the next week to see Charlotte again.

On Monday, however, Becky was back. This time, she didn’t bother bringing anything; she was going to try a new approach. Over the past week, she had been watching the practices by herself, but she had noticed that there was a group of people who also regularly attended the training sessions -- including a member of the university’s wrestling team, Jimmy Uso. Becky knew him from a literature class back in sophomore year; he also happened to be the boyfriend of one of Charlotte’s teammates.

“Took you long enough to join us here, Miss Becky,” Jimmy said as she made her way to their section of the gym.

She shrugged. “Didn’t know I was welcome,” she replied, bumping fists with Jimmy, then doing the same to his twin brother Jey.

“Come on now girl! You know you always welcome here. Just lay off our women, okay? You know who they are,” Jimmy said, gesturing to Naomi, and then to the tall girl that Becky only knew as Nia Jax.

She grinned. “You both know who I’m here for, Uce,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah, Miss Flair caught your eye. We know. We been hearing things,” Jey said. “How goes the chase, Becky?”

“Having a bit of trouble,” she admitted. “Looks like Charlotte has developed a  _ flair _ for running away from me.”

The Uso brothers snorted. “Yeah, well,” Jimmy finally said. “Naomi says the girls been warned about you. By Nattie.”

“Yeah,” Becky said. “I was there.”

Jimmy gave her a speculative look. “You gonna back off?”

Her answer was short, swift, and decisive. “No.”

When practice was over, she watched as the Usos went to their respective girlfriends. She watched as Charlotte caught sight of her, and do a double-take. Becky had to stop herself from licking her lips -- the top that Charlotte was wearing clung to her like a second skin.

The tall blonde approached her in surprise. “Hey,” Charlotte said. “Uh, you’re here again.”

“Yup!” Becky said cheerfully. “Thought I’d sit with the Usos this time. How was your scrimmage? Last Friday?”

“Oh!” Charlotte said. “It went well, I guess? Coach didn’t want us to push ourselves too hard, so she played me just a couple of sets.” The tall blonde sat down, a couple of seats from Becky, and began removing athletic tape from her knees and wrists. “How did you even know about our scrimmage?” she wondered.

“I have my ways,” Becky said mysteriously. Charlotte laughed in response, and the Irish woman felt elated. “So when do I get to watch you in an actual game?” she asked.

Charlotte grinned at her. “Aw, come on Becky,” she said. “Give us a few more weeks to prepare!” She picked off the last of the tape from her knees, and stood up. “Uh, will I see you again tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Becky answered immediately. “I’ll be here, Charlotte.”

*

She was there every day of the week, for the next two weeks. And every day, Charlotte sat close to her after practice, sometimes removing her tape, sometimes her shoes, sometimes the various wrappings she had around her knees or ankles. And every day, their conversations grew longer and longer; it was clear that Charlotte was becoming more comfortable around her.

_ If I had known that I only had to sit beside the fucking Usos to get her to talk to me, I would have done that from Day fucking 1 _ , Becky thought grumpily, as she watched Charlotte stand up. It was a Thursday. The team was supposed to have the day off, but their coach had changed her mind. Becky had very nearly missed practice; only a last-minute text from Dana saved her.

“God, I’m so hungry.”

Charlotte’s voice brought her out of her reverie. “Did someone say she was hungry?” Becky said, thanking all the gods that she didn’t take those godforsaken protein bars out of her bag. “Here you go, lass,” she said, handing one to Charlotte -- who looked pleasantly surprised.

“Thank you, Becky,” she said, “This is my favorite! How did you know?”

Actually, Becky had made a very lucky guess, but Charlotte didn’t have to know that. “I saw you eating that flavor a couple of weeks back,” she said casually. “So, you know, just bought a few for you, in case of emergency.”

The smile that Charlotte gave her made Becky’s stomach do flips.  _ What the fuck _ , she thought.  _ What is this. _ She gave herself a little shake, then took a deep breath. Perhaps, this was a good time to take the risk. Charlotte was warming up to her, after all, and --

“Charlotte? Coach wants a word.” It was Nattie, come to ruin Becky’s night. Charlotte let out a huge sigh, and rolled her eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” the tall blonde said, before leaving to go talk to their coach. 

“I’ll be waiting!” Becky answered. Once Charlotte was out of earshot, she turned to Nattie, who was clearly fuming. “What,  _ Natalya? _ ”

“What are you doing, Becky?” Nattie asked sharply. “You’ve been here every day for what, three weeks now? Why don’t you just give this up? Charlotte’s not going to fall into your bed just because you gave her a stupid  _ protein bar _ .”

“Aww, Nattie, you jealous?” Becky cooed in reply. “Relax,” she added. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“Friendly?  _ You _ ?” Nattie snorted, before looking at her in a more inquisitive manner. “You’re making an effort,” she continued. “For Charlotte. Why? I thought you’d have given up, like, two weeks ago.”

It was a question that Becky couldn’t answer. She ignored Nattie, who grabbed at her arm. “Natalya,” she hissed. “Claws in, kitten, we’re in public.”

“Becky,” Nattie replied in a low voice, quiet and dangerous. “Don’t do this to her, please.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Becky said. “ _ Yet. _ ”

“That’s exactly what I mean -- you’re going to hurt her, like you hurt me,” Nattie shot back.

This time, Becky turned to look at Natalya eye to eye. “Nattie-cat,” she said, in a voice dripping with venom. “Believe me -- you  _ don’t _ compare to her in any way. I like her more than I ever liked you.”

Nattie dropped her hold on Becky’s arm. There were tears forming in her eyes, but Becky ignored them. “Don’t ruin this for me, Natalya,” she warned. “What we had was fun, but this is different, and I’m not about to let you mess it up because you’re still hung up on me.” She reached down to grab her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and prepared to leave.

“Becky, you’re leaving?”

She whirled around to see Charlotte walking back to where they are, and sighed. “Hey, Charlotte,” she said. “Uh, I got a message from Sasha, and uh, they kinda need me at the frat house, so, yeah, I’m going.” She smiled, a little forced, a little wan. “But I’ll be here on Monday, I promise.”

“Or you can watch us tomorrow,” Charlotte said. “Our scrimmage will be here, and it’ll be open door, so if you want, you can watch. Only if you want, I mean you don’t have to, but --”

“Charlotte,” Becky interrupted, grasping the other girl’s hand. “I’ll be here, lass.” This time, her smile was far more genuine. “I can’t wait to watch you.”

The look on Charlotte’s face -- the way she blushed, and then smiled -- would stay with Becky for the rest of the night.


	6. do you not think so far ahead?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Becky makes a move, and it... works?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: this chapter is eventful. It features, among other things, a cameo from Dream D*ddy Toni Storm, Sheamus, and Cesaro. It also features spoilers for Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, two of my favorite movies of all time, and two of the most romantic movies of all time, as well. The title comes from Frank Ocean's incredible song, "Thinkin' 'Bout You," which you should all listen to because it's amazing.

Sasha had told Becky that Charlotte was a pretty good player, and she had come to the same conclusion upon watching the team’s practice. Still, Becky had not anticipated just how  _ good _ Charlotte actually was when she was in a genuinely competitive setting.

She was sitting with the Usos again, watching the team’s scrimmage against a local semi-pro club. Charlotte had started alongside Jimmy’s girlfriend, Naomi; Becky didn’t understand the positions all too well, but she knew that they were the top scorers of the team.

“She and Charlotte gon’ be murderous this year,” Jimmy was saying, just as Naomi scored off a cross-court spike. “I mean, this a club team, and they’re killing ‘em.”

“Jimmy,” Becky interjected. “How do you watch the games?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, how do you get tickets?” she clarified.

Jimmy looked at her strangely. “Naomi gives us tickets. Each player gets like two complimentary,” he answered. “Why? Charlotte didn’t mention that?”

Becky watched as Charlotte prepared to serve, then sighed. “She told me to ask the Athletics Office for tickets,” she admitted.

The Usos burst out laughing. “That’s cold of her,” Jimmy said. “Damn girl!” Jey exclaimed at the same time. “What did you tell her?”

“What was I supposed to tell her?” she answered grumpily. “Whatever. I’m sure I’ll convince her to give me a ticket.”

The whistle blew, signalling the end of the set. Charlotte had served up an ace to end it. Becky watched as she walked back to the bench, frowning a little when she realized that the tall blonde was limping a bit. Her brows furrowed further when Charlotte started talking to a trainer, pointed to her left ankle, then shook her head. Becky couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could see clearly the look of frustration on Charlotte’s face as she was made to sit on the bench. Carmella, Bayley’s girlfriend, entered the game for her.

“Looks to me like your girl is hurt.”

Becky groaned at the familiar voice. “Toni,” she said, already annoyed. “What are you doing here?”

Toni Storm was a bartender at one of the clubs that Becky and Sasha liked to frequent, and she and Becky had some fun times together.  For the most part, Becky liked her. But Toni was also the one person on campus who could get more girls than both her and Sasha; the Irish woman definitely didn’t want Storm anywhere near Charlotte.

Toni just grinned at her. “Relax, Becky,” she said. “I’m watching  _ my _ girl.” She pointed to the tall, broad-shouldered middle blocker of the club team, who seemed to have a permanent snarl on her face. “Besides,” Toni continued, “Everyone and their mother knows you called dibs on Charlotte. Wouldn’t want to step on Daddy Becky’s territory.”

Becky was careful to keep her features neutral. “She’s not yet my territory,” she said. “But you’re right to stay away from her.”

*

When the scrimmage was done, she went over to Charlotte, who looked sullen and sad. But she mustered up a smile when she saw Becky, and the Irish woman felt that strange fluttering in her stomach that she has come to associate with the tall blonde. Now, however, was not the time to examine that sensation more deeply. 

“Hey,” Becky said, trying to sound cheerful. She handed the blonde a protein bar, which Charlotte took eagerly. “You were great.” A beat. “Well, you were great in the first set.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte sighed. “Coach didn’t want -” She stopped abruptly, and then said: “Coach just wanted to give Carmella a chance, I guess.”

_ She doesn’t want me to know that she’s hurt, _ Becky realized, as she watched Charlotte munch on the protein bar.  _ Why? _

She considered her next step for all of two seconds. “Charlotte,” Becky said, carefully, softly. “Are you okay? I saw you limping a bit after the first set.”

Becky watched as a gauntlet of emotions passed through Charlotte’s wonderfully expressive face -- surprise, irritation, and finally, resignation. The tall blonde glanced down at her feet; she had long removed her shoes and was wearing a pair of bright pink Nike slides. Almost absentmindedly, Becky observed that her toenails were polished a glossy purple.

“It’s just a tiny little sprain,” Charlotte admitted after a few more moments of silence. “It’s nothing. I’m not about to miss any time.” Becky could tell that Charlotte was trying to reassure herself with her own words. So, she gave the athlete an encouraging smile.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Charlie,” she said. 

“Charlie?” the other woman asked, smiling faintly.

Becky grinned back. “Yeah,” she answered. “Charlie.”

*

Becky didn’t want to appear  _ clingy _ , or whatever, but for some reason she found herself desperately wanting to text Charlotte. She had to leave almost immediately after the scrimmage; Becky still had to go to some classes, after all, and in any case, Charlotte also needed to get her ankle checked out. But before she left, Becky wheedled Charlotte’s number out of Dana Brooke.

It had been almost embarrassingly easy. A wink, and a promise that Charlotte will never find out who had given away her number, and Dana had given in. Becky was now in possession of the number of one Charlotte Flair, and she has never been so tempted.

“Oh for the love of God,” Sasha finally snapped. “You’ve been staring at your phone for the last 10 minutes. Just fucking text her and be done with it.”

Becky glared at her best friend. It was Friday night, and they were in the common room of the frat house, with several of the other members present -- none of whom need to know that Becky Lynch, fuck boy extraordinaire, was struggling to figure out how to text a girl.

“Wait, you ain’t even text her yet?” asked Bianca Belair, a freshman whom Sasha had taken under her wing.

“Shut up, Bianca,” Becky immediately said. “All of you, shut up. I’m thinking.” Of course, her friends took that as the signal to  _ not _ shut up. All at once, Becky was inundated with suggestions of what she should text Charlotte -- all of them of the raunchy nature. 

“Why even use words?” This, from Zelina Vega, yet another freshman. “Just send her a picture of your strap, Becks. That ought to do it.”

Becky glared at Zelina, then at Sasha. “Boss,” she said through gritted teeth. “Can you  _ please _ control these children?” With that, she stomped her way to the only peaceful area of the house -- the balcony. Her hands shaking, Becky lit up a cigarette, took a deep, calming drag, and then unlocked her phone again.

_ Hey, this is Becky. Are you feeling any better? _ There. That was safe.

_ How the hell did you get my number?? _ This was the reply she got, followed by an emoji of a raised eyebrow.

_ I have my ways _ , Becky replied.

_ Oh really? _ This time, a thinking face emoji.  _ I’m fine, I told you. Just a minor sprain. _

_ Well, I read that you should keep your ankle elevated, and to alternate between hot and cold compresses _ , Becky texted back.

_ Kinda knew that already, Becky, _ Charlotte replied, accompanied by a generic smiling emoji. _ This isn’t my first sprain, you know. I’ve been injured before. _ Becky laughed as this time, Charlotte added an emoji of the face with the hospital mask. 

_ Just rest up, okay? _ Becky answered back.  _ Stay hydrated, and all that. I’ll see you tomorrow at practice. _

_ I’m gonna find out who gave you my number, Becks. _

_ A magician never reveals her secrets, _ Becky texted back. This time, it was she who added an emoji -- that of a wink.  _ Goodnight, Charlie. _

*

In hindsight, she probably did not need to bring an ice pack.

Becky could  _ feel _ the pack dripping as the ice melted away.  _ I should have brought a cooler, or something _ , she thought as she approached Charlotte. The blonde was decked out in gear -- a grey tank top and  matching shorts -- but she didn’t have her shoes on. Becky could see that there was still some slight swelling in her left ankle, which Charlotte was keeping elevated.

“Hey, Charlotte,” she said, sitting down next the taller woman. “Damn, that still looks painful.”

Charlotte wasn’t even looking at her; she was glaring at her ankle as if the injured body part had insulted a family member, or run over a pet. “Coach is holding me out of practice,” she told Becky, sounding upset. “She didn’t wanna risk aggravating the injury, or whatever. God!” Charlotte suddenly exclaimed; now she looked more angry than upset. “It’s just a stupid sprain, I’m not even really hurt or anything.”

“Oh wow,” Becky said. “Maybe I should put this ice pack to cool off your hot head, instead of your ankle, huh?” She took the ice pack and subtly, carefully, pressed it to Charlotte’s ankle.

Charlotte hissed at the cold, reaching down to grab at Becky’s hand and remove the ice pack. For a brief moment, their fingers tangled together; Charlotte blushed immediately, and drew her hand away. “Why did you bring an ice pack?” she asked.

_ What a good question _ , Becky thought.  _ Why did I bring an ice pack? _ She shifted the angle of the object on Charlotte’s ankle, and noticing that her glossy purple nail polish was starting to chip a little. “I… I was just worried about you,” Becky said, opting for honesty.

Charlotte tilted her head to the side, as if considering the answer. “Becky,” she said, slowly, “You do know we got ice packs here, right? And hot compresses. And athletic tape.”

Becky bit her lip, removing her hand from where it had began to inch close to Charlotte’s bare foot. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I realized that a little too late, I guess.”

Charlotte reached out to grab Becky’s hand. “Hey,” she said, and this time, there was a smile on her face. “You’re sweet. Thank you for being so concerned.”

Inwardly, Becky was screaming at being called  _ sweet _ . When was the last time anyone had called her sweet?  _ Hot _ was more common.  _ Gorgeous _ was also valid.  _ Daddy _ , of course. But sweet? What was she, ice cream? A piece of candy?

Abruptly, Becky realized that Charlotte was still holding her hand.

Their gazes met, and Charlotte blushed again. She moved to pull her hand away, but Becky tightened her grip, hooking her pinky over Charlotte’s.  _ Now or never. Shoot your shot, Becky. _

“Will you go out with me?” Becky asked, quietly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. The way the words came out of her mouth surprised her: this was not how she planned to ask this question. In her head, she sounded so much bolder, cockier, more  _ sure _ . 

Charlotte exhaled. “Like, on a date?” she asked, her voice just as soft, just as uncertain.

“Yeah,” Becky said, this time sounding firmer. “Will you go on a date with me, Charlotte?”

Again, there was that gauntlet of emotions on Charlotte’s face. Becky’s heart was hammering in her chest; there was, again, that fluttering in her stomach that was beginning to annoy her.  _ What am I doing? Why I am doing this? _ She remembered, suddenly, the challenge that Sasha had laid down for her.  _ Crack Charlotte Flair’s shell. That’s it. That’s why I’m doing this. That’s … That’s it. That’s it, right? _

_ Right? _

Charlotte’s hand tightened on hers.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

Charlotte was smiling at her; again, Becky felt blinded. All questions, all doubts, evaporated from her head at the sight of that smile. 

“Yeah, Becky. I’ll go out on a date with you.”

*

“Where are you gonna take her?” Sasha asked. It had been a couple of days since Charlotte agreed to go out with Becky; they have been texting non-stop since, and Sasha had felt compelled to point out to her friend that she was “walking around with the absolute stupidest smile on your face, holy shit, Becky.”

“I got something planned,” Becky said, deliberately vague.

“Uh-huh,” Sasha said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She raised an eyebrow as Becky let out an honest-to-god giggle as she read Charlotte’s latest text. “What’re you so happy for?” she wondered.

“Charlotte was just telling me about their rookie hazing last year,” Becky answered. “They made the freshmen wear diapers, can you believe that?”

Sasha grunted in response. “Becky,” she said. When the other woman raised her head in acknowledgement, Sasha continued. “Just checking if you remember our deal.”

“Oh, I remember. Just like I remember that you didn’t even tell me what was in it for me, Sash,” Becky answered smoothly. 

“Just making sure you don’t forget why you’re doing this,” Sasha said flippantly. “As for your… reward… let me think about it.”

Becky waved her hand dismissively. “We’ll discuss it later, Boss,” she said, before collapsing into giggles again. “Look at her,” she said, showing her phone to Sasha. On the screen was a picture of Charlotte, with a couple of her teammates, wearing what appeared to be their Halloween costumes. “Isn’t she cute?” Becky said.

“Uh-huh,” Sasha said. “Cute. Yeah.”

Something was going on here, Sasha thought, something that she didn’t anticipate. She watched as a truly dopey-looking grin broke out on Becky’s face as she typed a reply to whatever Charlotte had said. Sasha wondered, faintly, what the text was, but decided that she was better off not knowing.

*

_ Last Saturday of August _

“I thought you said 7:00 p.m.,” Charlotte said.

She was holding the door to their house just slightly open, to prevent Becky from entering. The blonde was already wearing a nice outfit, smart casual, because Becky said there was no need to dress up. But now, Charlotte was seriously thinking twice about this date, because Becky was late.

The woman in question glanced at her watch. “It’s… 7:10, Charlie,” she said, putting on her most charming smile. “Come on now, lass. I was only a little late because I got you this.”

Becky had been hiding her right arm behind her back, and she made a production of showing exactly what it was that she had hidden -- a bouquet of white and red carnations, with a single red rose right in the middle. Charlotte couldn’t help it: her face broke into a smile, and she opened the door wider.

“Okay, I guess you can come in,” Charlotte said.

Truthfully, Becky wasn’t so sure she wanted to enter the house; she worried that Nattie would be inside, waiting with a shotgun. But Charlotte was looking at her expectantly, so she took a deep breath and made her way through.

Her fears were not unfounded. True enough, Natalya Neidhart was there, standing in the living room -- fortunately, with no shotgun in sight. Unfortunately, it seemed as though she had brought out virtually every member of the team with her: over a dozen women leveled Becky with glares as soon as she stepped foot inside the house.

“Well,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Nice to meet y’all.”

“We just wanted to see Charlotte off,” Nattie said sweetly. “Let me take care of those flowers for you, Char.”

Becky narrowed her eyes at the short blonde, but there was no time to wonder what Nattie was thinking, or planning. Charlotte handed her bouquet to their team manager, then turned to Becky, still with that bright smile on her face. “Shall we?”

The redhead smiled back, feeling her stomach again fluttering, her heart beating just a little bit faster. She took Charlotte’s hand and led her out of the house, ignoring the daggers that Natalya was trying to drive into her back through her eyes.

As the door closed behind the pair, Nattie exhaled, and stared at the flowers.  _ Flowers _ . From Becky. She chuckled a little, remembering their one-week tryst from last year; flowers were never in the conversation then.  _ What the hell is going on here? _

“Nattie.” Bayley’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

She was still staring at the flowers. “Charlotte’s a big girl,” Natalya eventually said. “Let her make her own mistakes. And somebody find me a vase.”

*

“I didn’t know you have a car,” Charlotte said, smiling as Becky opened the passenger door for her and waited until she had sat. It was a midnight blue Toyota Camry, an older model, but Charlotte could tell that the vehicle was cared for. The interior was immaculate, but contained little touches that revealed Becky’s personality. There was, for example, a little figure of a pug on the dash. Hanging from the rear-view mirror was a miniature pair of boxing gloves.

Becky grinned at her as she slid into the driver’s seat. “Yeah, she’s my baby,” she said. “Saved up for it all throughout high school, so now I can go anywhere I want.”

“Anywhere you want, huh?” Charlotte said. “Mind telling me where you’re taking me, then?”

“Oh, but it’s a surprise, lass,” Becky said. “Just sit back and relax, listen to some Pearl Jam, and before you know it, we’re there.”

Becky was true to her word: they barely got through two songs before stopping -- in front of what appeared to be the most run-down building in campus. “Uh, Becky?”

“Relax, Charlie,” the Irish woman assured her. “This is just a pit stop. But lemme tell you, you’re in for a surprise.”

Becky parked the car and then opened the door for her, before leading her inside the building. Charlotte had never ever been in this area of the campus, but Becky walked in confidently; it was clear that she was familiar with the place. Charlotte clutched the other woman’s hand just a bit tighter.

“Are you ready?” Becky asked, as they stopped in front of what appeared to be a literal hole in the wall. “This is gonna be the culinary experience of your life, Charlotte,” she promised.

Charlotte didn’t know what she expected, but it surely wasn’t a restaurant bustling with customers. Becky didn’t bother to look for a table, instead going right to the kitchen area. 

“Sheamu!” she yelled, and a tall, pale man with a shock of orange hair burst out, yelling in response: “Becky Balboa!”

To Charlotte’s shock, the tall man lifted Becky up in a hug, twirled her once, then set her to her feet. “Long time no see, lass,” the man called “Sheamu” said. “And who is this pretty lady?”

Becky beamed. “Sheamus, this is Charlotte Flair, she’s about to be the biggest volleyball star in the state,” she said proudly. “And Charlie, this is Sheamus, he’s a childhood friend of mine. He runs this place with his husband, Cesaro, and they make the best, greasiest, most unhealthy burgers on campus.”

“Well that’s not true,” Sheamus protested. “We put lettuce and tomatoes and pickles on ‘em, those are healthy right?”

Charlotte was still slightly taken aback, but found herself smiling at the tall man. “Yeah,” she said. “They count as veggies, I suppose. Nice to meet you, Sheamus.”

“Likewise, Miss Charlotte.”

“Perhaps you’ll  _ lettuce _ have my order, huh, Sheamu? Charlie and I have somewhere else to go,” said Becky, as Sheamus rolled his eyes at the pun.

“Yes, yes Becky, we got it ready,” he said, bursting back into the kitchen for all of 30 seconds, before returning with a literal picnic basket. “Here you go, lass.”

Becky was beaming again, and Charlotte couldn’t help but smile widely too, as the Irish woman took the basket and tiptoed to give Sheamus a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Sheamus. I owe you one. Say hi to Cesaro for me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sheamus said, smiling. “Have fun, you two.”

They were already nearing the door when they heard another voice yell out: “Don’t forget to use protection!”

Becky rolled her eyes. “Sorry,” she said, leading Charlotte back to the car. “That was Cesaro. Just ignore him, he likes to make fun of me.”

“I didn’t even know this restaurant exists, Becky,” Charlotte said, a note of awe in her voice. “How did you find out about it?”

Becky shrugged. “I was one of the first customers,” she explained. “Sheamus told me about his plans to build it, and now it’s kind of become one of those best-kept secrets thing. Not a lot of people know about it, but those who do eat there all the time.”

They reach the car, and Becky puts the picnic basket in the backseat before once again opening the passenger door for Charlotte. As she slid into the driver’s seat, it struck Becky that she’d now opened and closed the door for the blonde three times tonight -- something she’d never done for any other woman. The realization had her gripping the steering wheel in shock.

“Becky?” 

She glanced at Charlotte, who was biting her lip, looking worried. “Are you okay, Becks?” the blonde asked.

“Don’t worry, lass,” she assured her. Becky reached out and briefly squeezed Charlotte’s hand. “Let’s go, we don’t wanna be late.”

“ _ Where _ are we going?” Charlotte asked again, her curiosity getting the better of her. All she got was a mischievous smile.

*

Becky drove back to campus, taking twists and turns that Charlotte didn’t even know were there. They must have driven for around 20 minutes, but she barely noticed: the conversation between the two of them flowed naturally, and they never seemed to run out of things to talk about.

“Okay, I know you said the food was unhealthy,” Charlotte said, tilting her head to the picnic basket in the backseat. “What did you mean by that?”

“I meant that I’m seriously hoping today is your cheat day, because that food will rob you of your senses -- it’s that good,” Becky replied, chuckling. “Wait, you do have cheat days, don’t you?”

Charlotte grimaced a bit. “Not really. But it’s okay!” she said hurriedly. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll just run it off tomorrow morning at the gym.”

Becky glanced at her briefly. “You’re already gorgeous,” she said. “You know that, right?” Already, she could see that Charlotte was blushing at the compliment.  _ Has no one told her how beautiful she is? _ Becky thought _.  _ She and Charlotte had only been talking for a short time -- a month, give or take -- but she had noticed how the tall blonde responded to compliments about her looks. It was as though she couldn’t believe that Becky found her attractive.

Shaking herself out of those thoughts, Becky parked the car, then grabbed Charlotte’s hand. “We’re here, Charlie. Now, I want you to keep an open mind, okay?” she said, before moving to again open the door to the passenger seat.

Charlotte had assumed that they would be eating out somewhere; she could tell that much from the picnic basket. What she didn’t anticipate was the location: Becky had taken them to a grassy field, where a wide screen had been set up. There were about a dozen other couples scattered in the area; she watched as Becky laid out a thick plaid blanket, then grinned at her. “Milady?”

She laughed out loud. Becky just kept on surprising her. Charlotte had anticipated a club, a bar, maybe even a movie -- at a theater. But a  _ picnic?  _ At a  _ drive-in _ movie? She smiled as she sat down on the blanket, and asked: “So what’s showing?”

Becky’s smile was suddenly shy. “It’s actually a double-feature,” she answered. “Of Before Sunrise, and Before Sunset.”

“Oh,” Charlotte responded. Inwardly, she was shocked. _ Two of the most romantic movies of all time? Who knew that Becky Lynch, the university’s most notorious fuck boy, liked movies like that? _

Suddenly, Becky couldn’t quite meet her eyes. The Irish woman began to unpack the picnic basket, bringing out a bottle of juice before pulling out food containers. “Here,” she said, offering one of the packs to Charlotte. “I wasn’t exactly honest when I said the food was unhealthy. I had Cesaro whip up a salad for you.”

Then, she handed another pack to Charlotte, and bit her lip before saying: “Also, this is… uh… this is a peanut butter, bacon and banana burger.”

Charlotte was shocked. She had mentioned that she loved those kinds of burgers exactly once: during one of their post-practice conversations, while removing the thick strips of Mueller tape from her thighs and knees. She didn’t think Becky heard: at the time, she could  _ feel _ the other woman’s eyes following the lines of her legs.

“That’s my favorite,” she responded, dumbly, as she reached for the burger.

“Yeah, you told me,” Becky said with a slight smile. “I gotta tell you, lass, Cesaro was kinda disgusted by it.  _ Bananas? On burgers? _ ” She said the last two words in a horrible, twisted accent that Charlotte couldn’t exactly identify. “But I hope you like ‘em!”

“I’m sure I’ll love it, Becky,” Charlotte responded, even as she drew closer to the other woman. “Thank you,” she said, “For remembering.”

Becky smiled at her, the kind of grin that emphasized how perfectly cut her jaw was. “I always remember our conversations, lass,” she said.

_ How do I respond to that? _ Fortunately for Charlotte, the vibrant sound of Henry Purcell’s Overture rang out, signaling the start of the movie. So, she just smiled at Becky, and turned to the screen, prepared to spend the next three hours listening in on the conversations of Jesse and Celine.

*

Towards the end of Before Sunrise -- as Jesse and Celine were preparing to go their separate ways -- Becky felt Charlotte shiver.

“Cold, Charlie?” she asked softly, shrugging out of the jacket that she was wearing. “Come here.”

Charlotte didn’t even think twice. She took the jacket and slipped it on, then moved so that she could lay her head on Becky’s shoulder. She felt the Irish woman’s arms wrap around her, and exhaled. “I love this movie,” Charlotte whispered. “How did you know?”

Becky lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Lucky guess?” 

She reaches into her pocket for a pack of cigarettes, and pulls one out before fumbling for her lighter. Becky was just about to light the smoke, when she saw Charlotte looking up at her, a slight frown in her face.

“Are you a big smoker?” Charlotte asked softly, as the closing credits rolled.

“Not really,” Becky said, wondering if this was a deal-breaker. “Mostly when I’m stressed.”

“Are you stressed now?”

_ Am I stressed now? _ Becky thought.  _ How can I be?  _

She smiles at Charlotte and puts the cigarette and the lighter away. “Nah,” she says, once again wrapping her arms around the taller girl as they watch Jesse prepare for his book reading, unaware of Celine’s presence. “I’m not stressed at all, Charlotte.”

Celine was dancing to Nina Simone when Charlotte spoke up again. 

“Come watch my game, Becky,” she said. “Please?”

Her head was still on Becky’s shoulder; she felt, more than saw, how Becky bobbed her head. “Of course, Char. I already talked to the Athletics Office about the tickets, but they don’t go on sale until next week.”

“Forget about the Athletics Office,” Charlotte said. “I got your ticket.”

She felt Becky exhale. “Okay, Charlotte,” she said. “Okay.” Her hold on Charlotte tightened; Becky felt the blonde woman’s hands grip at her arms.

On the screen, Celine was still dancing to Nina Simone.  _ Baby… you are gonna miss that plane. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Find me on Tumblr at rebeccaquinoa.


	7. i’m getting better, gotta hand it to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where they define the relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is another eventful chapter, featuring charlotte's first game of the season and becky not realizing how stressful it is to watch volleyball (it's very stressful). and also, their frat really likes parties, mickie is amazing as a den mother, and sasha knows becky better than becky knows herself.
> 
> check the links for pictures of charlotte's outfit and shoes, and becky's ridiculous kicks, and also becky's lockscreen.
> 
> the title is from chance the rapper's "work out."

_Second week of September_

“Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Okay. You’re going to do great.” Becky smiled as she reached out to clasp Charlotte’s arm. She had taken the blonde to their balcony -- her private sanctuary -- in an effort to calm the player’s nerves before their game the next day. As much as Charlotte kept saying that she wasn’t nervous, it was clear that she was a little jittery, a little anxious.

Bringing her to the balcony had been the right move. It was a bit of an awkward fit: Charlotte struggled to move to the narrow entryway with her long legs, but once they got there, the look on her face made everything worth it. She had gasped at the view of the campus, and immediately pointed to the small arena where they would play the next day. “Becky, this is amazing,” she had said, her eyes sparkling.

“Yeah,” Becky said, her voice catching in her throat. “It’s amazing.”

“Oh,” Charlotte suddenly exclaimed. “Here’s your ticket. It’s a small venue, so really, you can sit anywhere you like.”

Becky grinned at her. “I’m gonna be up in the bleachers,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you to get a glimpse of me at courtside and be distracted.”

Charlotte swatted at her shoulder. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” she said. “I’m always completely focused when I play. Perfect concentration.”

“Please, lass,” Becky said, and this time she was smirking. “You’ll be blinded by my beauty.”

Charlotte had a comeback ready, she truly did. But at that moment, her phone started ringing, and she was spared of having to say something sweet or corny, maybe something along the lines of: “I’m always blinded by your beauty, Becks.”

Instead, she answered her phone. “Hello? Nattie, hi… What? I’m just right next door, come on… Okay, okay, fine. Fine… Yes, I’m going back now.” Sighing, Charlotte squeezed Becky’s hand and said, “Nattie says I have to go back to the house now. Curfew, or something.”

 _Nattie is a fucking pussy-block_ , Becky thought uncharitably. “It’s okay, babe,” she said. “You do need to get some rest before the game.” She stood up and helped Charlotte to her feet as well. “I’ll walk you back.”

“Uh,” Charlotte said. “Maybe I should go back alone, Becky. Nattie is…" Her voice trailed off for a moment, then plunged on: “Nattie’s not exactly your biggest fan, and seeing you over there before our first game of the season might not be the best idea.”

Becky sighed, but agreed with Charlotte nevertheless. They made their way down the frat house, and at the door, Becky stopped the tall blonde. “You’re gonna be so good tomorrow, Charlie,” she said softly. “I can’t wait to see you kick ass.” A pause, then she brushed a kiss across Charlotte’s cheek. “I’ll see you, okay? Have a good rest, baby.”

When Charlotte was gone, Becky turned back to discover that they had an audience. “What?” she snarled, as Sasha, Bianca, Zelina, and the rest of her housemates hurriedly looked away.

*

Becky needed a cigarette. Her hands were shaking. She wanted to pace up and down, she wanted to scream, she wanted to -- she wanted to go down the court and try to _help_ in some way.

She had been right: Charlotte was spectacular. But she was still only one player, and now their team was playing in a fifth set, and Becky still barely understood the rules of volleyball but she knew things were looking desperate. She wished that she had sat courtside; maybe that way Charlotte would hear her when she cheered. But no, she had to sit all the way up, telling herself that it was to get a better, wider view of the court, when in reality she wanted to hide.

 _Can’t have everyone see me here_ , she thought. There were already some whispers in campus about how Becky Lynch, of all people, had been _tamed_ by a volleyball player. She had snarled when she first heard them, but she didn't know, exactly, how to address them either. Becky shook her head, as if to clear it of the intrusive thoughts. They didn't matter, not when Charlotte was playing, not when she was flying through the air and soaring.

She watched as Charlotte score point after point after point, her snarl giving way to a wide smile with every single one. She watched as she rose up for a thunderous block, then twirled around to celebrate; Becky felt a twinge of jealousy -- _jealousy_ \-- when Charlotte lifted up Bayley in celebration. She watched as Charlotte trooped to the service line, her gaze laser sharp, her breathing even… She watched as Charlotte’s serve floated, dipped, and dropped, right into an unguarded zone; she watched as the tall blonde leapt Bayley’s waiting arms to celebrate their win.

Becky desperately needed a cigarette.

*

Afterward, she gushed over Charlotte, showered her with praises. “You were incredible. I mean, I knew you were gonna do great, but, _goddamn_ , Charlotte… that was… I don’t even have the words to describe what you did,” Becky said.

Charlotte had not stopped smiling since the final whistle blew, and now her grin grew even wider after seeing Becky, who had waited for her outside the arena. “Thank you,” she said, wrapping her arms around the shorter woman in an embrace. “I mean that was tougher than I expected, but a win is a win, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Becky said, returning Charlotte’s embrace. “God, you were so good. We should celebrate.”

Panic flashed through Charlotte’s face, and Becky immediately backtracked. “No, not like that!” she said. “I meant, let’s get dinner or something. I’m sure Sheamus and Cesaro can whip up something for us.”

This time, it was relief that flooded Charlotte’s features. And then, disappointment. “I would _love_ to go there right now, Becks,” she said, “But we have a team dinner so… rain check?”

Becky pouted, and Charlotte giggled. “Sorry, babe,” the blonde said. “Tomorrow after practice, I promise.”

“Fine,” Becky said, pouting still. “Hey, Charlotte,” she suddenly said. At Charlotte’s nod, she continued. “I’m so proud of you,” Becky said, her voice soft. “And I’m so happy that I got to watch you play like that.”

There was no way Charlotte could have stopped herself from doing what she did next.

First, it was a smile, soft, tender. Then, she dipped her head, and planted a kiss on Becky’s lips. It was all too brief; just a few moments, a few seconds.

“Thank you,” Charlotte breathed out, just as they parted. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Her voice was hopeful.

Becky nodded. “Yes, Charlotte,” she said. “I promise.”

*

The next few weeks passes in a haze of games and dates, of movies and late night conversations, of visits to Sheamus and Cesaro and of adventures in new restaurants. Becky goes to every game, sits at the top of the bleachers every time, where Charlotte could not see as she balls her hands into fists and grits her teeth in anxiety. She is there after every game, ready to greet Charlotte with an embrace and a kiss.

It’s not always smooth-sailing: a tough loss in their fourth game sends Charlotte into a foul mood, and her words to Becky after the game are sharp and brittle and cutting. It is an entirely new experience for Becky, who was shocked to see how the same woman who loves sunflowers and star-gazing could be so deeply vicious as well.

“I’m not in the mood for your sweet talk, Becky,” Charlotte had snapped immediately, after Becky offered a few words of comfort. She had turned her head when Becky tried to kiss her, and it was clear she was in a very dark mood. She had not played well, and they had lost, and it was something that happened to every athlete but it gnawed at Charlotte.

“You can just go,” she continued. “I know you only want one thing from me, and you’re not gonna get it, not tonight or any other night. So you can just go and leave me alone.”

Becky looked at her. “Is that what you want?” she asked, her voice soft. She was treading uncharted waters here, and she had no idea what to do, but she was determined not to sink. “If you really want me to go, I would, Charlotte.” She took a deep breath. “But I would much rather sit next to you until you feel better.”

She was met with silence. Every other member of the team had left, but Charlotte had stayed behind, simmering in anger -- at herself, at her teammates, at her coaches, at their opponents. But mostly, at herself, for playing poorly, for failing to win. She wanted to lash out at someone, anyone, and Becky was there, still waiting for her as she done so for the past month.

“All right,” Becky finally said, when it was clear that Charlotte was not about to respond to her. “I’m sorry about the game, Charlotte. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, is that okay?” Silence, still. She wanted to kiss the taller woman in front of her, but Becky didn’t think she could take being rejected twice in one night. She sighed, softly, so that Charlotte barely heard. “I’ll text you,” Becky promised, then squeezed Charlotte's hand one last time, before moving to leave.

She had barely taken five steps when she heard Charlotte finally speak up. “Wait.” Her voice was muffled, with tears and something else, and she sounds choked up when she speaks again. “Becky, wait, please.”

It takes Charlotte all of three steps to catch up to her, and then the taller woman was collapsing in her arms, hot tears flowing down her cheeks. She buried her head in Becky’s shoulder, and sobs.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “I’m sorry, Becky, I didn’t mean -”

“Shh,” Becky responds, her arms clutched around Charlotte. “I got you, baby. It’s okay.”

When Charlotte has calmed down enough -- or at least, when she was no longer in tears -- Becky drives her back to their house. She could see that the blonde doesn’t want to be left alone, however.

“Charlie,” she said. “Will you be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Charlotte answers honestly. “We’ve lost games before, but never because of me.”

“Charlotte, come on. It wasn’t all on you,” Becky said. “Okay, it wasn’t your best game, but Naomi could have been better, and Bayley was off, too. It’s not all your fault, lass.”

Charlotte grimaced. “I’m the one who shouldn’t have off games, though,” she said. She glanced at the house, then reached out to grab Becky’s hand. “Becks… can I… can I stay with you?”

“Huh?”

“Can I stay with you?” Charlotte asks, her voice so soft that Becky could barely hear. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. Please?”

Two months ago, Becky would have been pumping her fist in celebration at such a request. Now, however, all she wanted was to be of some comfort to the still troubled woman: she wanted to do what Charlotte had asked, but was also unsure as to how she could control herself if they stayed together for the night.

She took a deep, calming breath, and then exhaled. “Okay,” she answered. “Okay, Charlie.”

She takes Charlotte to their frat house, and then, to her room. She dashes to the bathroom for a quick shower, and waits as Charlotte does the same, fidgeting all the while. When Charlotte comes out, wearing an old Nike shirt and shorts,  blonde hair dripping everywhere, Becky had to close her eyes for a quick second.

“You can have the bed,” Becky says, grabbing a pillow.

“Wait, what? What do you mean?”

Becky risks a look at Charlotte; the sight of the blonde woman sitting on her bed nearly decimates her self-control. “You can have the bed,” she repeats. “We got a couch downstairs, and --”

“Becky,” Charlotte interrupts. “Don’t be silly. You’re not sleeping on the couch.” She taps the bed, and says: “Come on, Becks.”

She must have done something awful in a past life, Becky realizes, to have the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen invite her to her _own fucking bed_ , but not to fuck her. This was what Becky had been working on for the past couple of months, and now here was Charlotte, in her bed, out of her own volition, and yet Becky knew she was not even going to try and make a move.

 _I’m going soft,_ she thinks, as she drops the pillow and joins Charlotte on the bed. _I’m really about to just_ sleep _with this woman._

“Becky?” Charlotte whispers.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier,” she murmurs. “About you just… wanting one thing from me. I know that’s not true.” A pause. “That’s not true, right?”

Becky laughed, weakly. “I want what you want, Charlotte,” she says, “And also, I want you to feel better. That’s all I want.”

Charlotte sighs, then turns so she can snuggle closer to Becky. “Thank you,” she whispers again, her eyes closed. “Good night, Becky.”

“Yeah,” Becky says, thinking, miserably, that she would barely get any sleep, not with Charlotte’s head nestled on her shoulder, their legs tangled together. “Good night, Charlie.”

The next morning, Becky gets up first, bright and early. Her slumber had been surprisingly peaceful; she feels quite refreshed. She prepares breakfast for herself and Charlotte; when the blonde woman comes down the kitchen, she was already showered and dressed. “Hey,” Becky says. “Breakfast?”

“Yes, please,” Charlotte says, and together they eat the pancakes that Becky had prepared, in comfortable silence.

That was how Sasha found them, a little later, when a bleary-eyed Boss made her way to the kitchen. To Becky’s eternal relief, Sasha just raised her eyebrows then opened the fridge to take out milk and cereal. “Sorry about the game yesterday, Charlotte,” was all Sasha said before she took her meal to the living room. Seconds later, they heard her begin watching Brooklyn 99.

Charlotte would leave a little while later, but not before Becky gives her a deep, sensual kiss, one that held more heat and promise than any they’ve had before. Charlotte was a little out of breath when they parted, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she waved goodbye and crossed the street to their own house.

Becky watched her the whole time, and grinned when Charlotte blew her a kiss before entering.

“Did you fuck her?”

The Irish woman whirls around, and sees Sasha with her arms crossed. There was a strange look on her best friend’s face, one that Becky struggled to read. “What?” she asks.

“I said, did you fuck her?” Sasha repeats.

Becky sighed, and shook her head. “No,” she answered, sounding a bit mournful. “We literally just slept together. Nothing else.”

“Well, shit, Becky.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean… That’s never happened before, right?” Sasha asks, wracking her brain. She can’t remember a time when Becky had gotten a girl to her bed, and not at least gotten some boob action out of it. “Shit, Becky,” she says again. “So when was the last time you got some?”

Becky groans at the question. “Night of the back-to-school party.”

Sasha’s eyes were wide. That was over a month ago, when she and Becky had both struck out on the girls they wanted, and so just decided to have a go at each other again. She had to shake her head at the memory: Becky pushing her up against the wall of her room and making her come on her fingers; Becky throwing her to the bed and forcing her on her hands and knees.

But that was quite a while ago, and she knew Becky has never gone this long without getting laid. “Holy shit, Becks. This girl has you by the throat.”

Becky didn’t have it in herself to deny Sasha’s statement.

*

_Last week of October_

“Hey you,” Becky greets with a smile as Charlotte exits the arena, looking exhausted but pleased. “Great game, baby.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte said, her smile growing wider when she sees the bouquet of sunflowers in Becky’s arms. “For me?” she asks.

“Who else?” Becky laughs as Charlotte made grabby hands at the flowers. The sunflowers were tough to find; Charlotte had told her that the ones that grew outside their house had been planted there by the university, but she had taken it upon herself to care for them. She knew Charlotte was hesitant to cut even one of those flowers -- “ _They’re my babies, Becks!_ ” -- so she scoured the town for a flower shop that sold the expensive blooms.

“Hey, so the frat is holding a Halloween party on Friday,” Becky said as she and Charlotte walked to her car. “Not a costume party or anything, just a regular Halloween party. We’re going, right?”

Charlotte thinks for a moment. “Yeah, sure,” she finally answers. “We have the day off on Saturday, so I can stay out for a while.”

The last time that she had gone to a party, Charlotte had felt woefully under-dressed. Now, she was going to a party with Becky, and she knew what that meant -- a parade of women coming up to her… girlfriend? ( _Is Becky my girlfriend? Am I her girlfriend?_ ) and showing off, tempting the Irish woman. Charlotte can still remember that first party, when Becky had a woman in her lap and two others cuddled close to her; she wonders if those three will make an appearance on Friday.

Well, if they do show up, they’d realize that they have competition. Charlotte was determined to keep Becky’s attention on Friday night. Which was why her entire closet was turned inside out, clothes scattered everywhere. Bayley was unamused at the mess.

“What the hell, Char?”

“Bayley, thank god you’re here,” she said. “I need your help.” Her teammate just raised an eyebrow in response, so Charlotte rolled on. “Becky and their frat are having a party on Friday. I have… I have nothing good to wear.”

Bayley scans the room. “Charlotte,” she says carefully, “I don’t know if you can’t see it, but there is a _shit ton_ of clothing on the floor right now.”

“None of these are good enough!” Charlotte exclaimed, sounding stressed. “I need something… something cute, but sexy. Something that --”

“Something that Becky will appreciate?” Bayley cuts in drily. Charlotte blushes and nods, and Bayley just rolls her eyes. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, Char, but Becky has been _very_ appreciative of you ever since she saw you. I don’t think that’ll change regardless of what you wear.”

Charlotte sighs and sits on the edge of her bed. “Still, Bay,” she says. “I gotta make an effort. D’you know how many girls are going to be attending that party? And I know they’re all gonna be making eyes at her. I just don’t want… I just don’t want her to be tempted, or anything.”

Bayley had watched Becky Lynch attend every single one of their practice for the past few months, had seen her make her way to the top of the bleachers for every game, and had witnessed how she waited for Charlotte at the end of every match, regardless of result. Like Nattie, she had been very wary of the Irish woman: she _knew_ of Becky Lynch, she knew how Becky treated women. But with every passing day, Becky had been changing her mind. Now, she highly doubted that Becky would pay attention to anyone else, not with Charlotte there.

“I’m sure she’ll like whatever you’ll wear, Char,” Bayley said with an impish grin. “But if you really wanna blow her mind…"

The libero went around the room and picked up a tight black shirt with a plunging neckline, then pointed to a pair of dark pants. Then, she nudged Charlotte’s boots with her left foot. “Wear ‘em. She’ll take one look at your cleavage and die.”

Charlotte couldn’t hold back her laughter. “Okay,” she said, then out of impulse, hugged Bayley. “Thanks Bay. Hey, you wanna come with me?”

She was surprised when her teammate blushed. “Yeah, uh, we’re going. Mella and I got an invite, too,” Bayley admitted. She saw Charlotte’s questioning look, and said: “I think she’s Becky’s friend -- Sasha? We ran into her at campus and she told us about the party.”

There might be something going on here, Charlotte thought, but she didn’t want to delve into it deeper; besides, it was clear that Bayley did not want to talk about it. “Well,” she said out loud. “The more the merrier, right?”

*

Charlotte was putting the finishing touches on her make-up when she received the text.

_Becks: Babe I’m on my way_

She couldn’t help the girlish giggle that escaped her at the word “babe.” It had been a couple of months since Becky first referred to her like that, and somehow, she still hadn’t gotten used to it. _I’ll be downstairs soon_ , she replied.

_Becks: Better hurry up before Nattie murders me_

This time, Charlotte laughs out loud, then picks up her purse before heading downstairs. She knows that Bayley and Mella are already at the party; she knows some of their other teammates would be making their way over at some point in the night. But Becky had wanted to pick her up; she wanted for them to go there together.

Becky was locked in what appeared to be a staring contest with Nattie when she made her way down. Charlotte sighed inwardly; Nattie had not said anything about her dating Becky, though she still saw their team manager glare in disapproval every time Becky would pick her up after practice or games. Still, she had been silent, and for that Charlotte was grateful.

“Becks?” she says, wanting nothing more than to break the standoff between the two women.

Becky immediately turned to look, and Charlotte was gratified to see the redhead’s jaw drop. She had taken Bayley’s advice, and was wearing the [tight, black, long-sleeved top that perfectly framed her breasts](https://www.instagram.com/p/BonCzlEBaw-/); instead of the jeans, however, she had opted for a pair of shorts that showed off her thighs and legs. She capped off the look by wearing her [Air Jordan 1 Sun Blush](https://c.static-nike.com/a/images/w_1536,c_limit,f_auto/mhbgsgcgbe8yne4ekkpf/womens-air-jordan-1-retro-high-sun-blush-release-date-ao1847-640.jpg), knowing that it would be the show-stopper.

“Holy shit, Charlie,” Becky breathed out. “You look… unreal. Come here, baby.”

Blatantly ignoring Nattie -- who was still glaring at her -- Becky drew Charlotte into her arms and planted a deep kiss on her lips. “God, you’re gorgeous,” she said, giving the tall blonde a once-over.

“You’re not looking too shabby,” Charlotte replied, grinning. She knew Becky had a go-to outfit at parties, and she truly appreciated the crop top that showed off the other woman’s abs. Becky completed the look with a leather vest, a tight pair of jeans, and … what the hell.

“Are those Jeremy Scotts?” she says, pointing to Becky’s shoes -- [a black pair of adidas kicks with wings on them](http://thesource.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/adidas-originals-jeremy-scott-js-wings-3-2.jpg).

Becky smirked. “Yes?”

Charlotte just shook her head. “You’re the only one I know who can make those wings work,” she tells Becky.

“It’s because I feel like I’m flying whenever you’re with me, Charlie,” Becky replies mischievously, and laughs softly when Charlotte blushes in response. “Come on then, we got a party to go to.”

Charlotte turns to Nattie, a questioning look on her face. The older woman just shakes her head. “Go ahead, Char,” she says. “I’ll stay here. Don’t forget -- we have weights tomorrow afternoon.”

“She’s still mad at me, huh,” Becky said as they walked towards the frat house, holding hands.

“I mean… can you blame her?” Charlotte said, and Becky frowns a little.

She and Charlotte had never talked about her past with Nattie; indeed, they’ve never really talked about Becky’s history of conquests before they started dating. It wasn’t as though they were _actively_ avoiding the topic: it was just that they had so many other things to talk about, so many more interesting stories to share to each other. Becky was acutely aware that Charlotte knew of her reputation as the university’s preeminent fuck boy; they had a very interesting conversation about her [Instagram page](https://66.media.tumblr.com/1b0929c6ee66e0143c22bba6d862c3fa/tumblr_phn8xnmsM81w1oojoo1_500.png) when Charlotte had finally followed her back, some weeks ago.

But Becky was trying. She was doing her best to show that she wasn’t who that Instagram page had made her out to be, who Nattie had made her out to be.

And she was ready to keep trying, even though Charlotte was making it hard.

Because sometimes, after she and Charlotte had said goodbye for the night, with Charlotte giving her a sweet kiss and nothing else, Becky would wonder why. Why she was still doing this. Why she was still going to Charlotte’s practices, and giving her flowers after games, and comforting her when they lost. Why she wanted Charlotte to see her for _her_ , and not for _Daddy Becky_ , the player who left Nattie a crying mess on her bed, along with a slew of other girls.

Sometimes, she wondered if all this _effort_ was worth it. If _Charlotte_ was worth it.

Then she’d look at her phone, where she’d now put a [picture of Charlotte holding a sunflower](https://www.instagram.com/p/BmzB5nAlC6e/) as her lockscreen, and all her questions were answered. _Yes._

She tightens her grip on Charlotte’s hand, and says: “Let’s not talk about Nattie, okay, babe? Please.”

Charlotte just nods. She knows that now is not the time, and truthfully, she’s not sure she ever really wants to talk to Becky about this topic. She squares her shoulders, and resolves to forget about the issue. _It’s not important, Charlotte,_ she tells herself.

The party was in full swing when they got to the house; already, Becky could see Sasha holding court at the couch. She smirked as she saw Charlotte’s teammates, Bayley and Carmella, cuddled up on either side her best friend: the Boss always wins, in the end.

“Wanna get a drink, Charlotte?” she asks.

Charlotte had caught sight of Bayley and Carmella, both of whom were sitting way too close to Sasha. She shakes her head, and says: “You know what, after seeing that? I am gonna need a drink. Maybe an alcoholic one, even.”

Becky laughs. “Ah, don’t worry! Sasha will take care of ‘em,” she says with a wink, and Charlotte chuckles, too.

When they get to the bar, Becky had to do a double-take. “Toni, what the fuck are you doing here?” she asked the blonde woman who was just smirking at her.

“Mickie hired me,” she drawled, “She knew Nikki would need help. Your usual, B?”

Becky sighed. “Fine, yes, I’ll have my usual.” She turns to Charlotte, and asks: “What’ll you have, Charlie?”

“Just a mojito.”

“A mojito for my girl, T,” Becky said.

When their drinks arrived, Becky realized that Charlotte was staring at her, wonder written all over her face. “Charlotte?”

“Nothing,” Charlotte immediately replied. “I mean, thanks for the drink, Becks.”

Charlotte had been right: several of the women there had dressed up and attended the party with the sole purpose of getting Becky’s attention. She recognized the tiny blonde who had been cuddled up to Becky, as well as the dark-haired woman who had sat on her lap. Charlotte hated to admit it, but both of them looked spectacular.

“Oh, look,” Becky suddenly said, and for an awful moment, Charlotte thought that one of the other women had caught her attention. But instead, Becky continued: “Mickie’s here. Hey, I know you haven’t met her yet, come on.”

Charlotte knew Mickie as the president of Becky’s organization, though she had often heard her called as the “den mother” of the frat, too. Suddenly, she was nervous: Becky clearly held this woman in high regard, and she knew she had to make a good first impression.

They made their way across the room, with Becky ignoring the come-hither looks sent her way by Alexa and Paige (and Mandy, and Alicia, who were also present). “Mickie,” she said upon catching up with the older woman. “Did we do a great job with this party, or what?”

Mickie rolled her eyes at the redhead, then did a double-take. Becky had her arm wrapped around the waist of the tall blonde that she recognized as Charlotte Flair; she knew that Becky had long been pursuing the other girl, but didn’t know that things had progressed enough for the Irish woman to bring her as a date.

“It’s fine, I suppose,” she tells Becky, before smiling at Charlotte. “Hello.”

“Oh yeah,” Becky said, “Charlotte, this is Mickie, our den mother. Mickie, this is my girl, Charlotte Flair, the biggest volleyball star in the state.”

There was that phrase again -- _my girl_. This time, Charlotte knew she wasn’t hearing things; from the way Mickie James raised her eyebrows, she knew she heard it too.

“Nice to finally meet you formally, Charlotte,” Mickie said. “From what I understand, you’ve slept over at least once?”

Charlotte sincerely hoped the lighting was dim enough to hide her blush. “Just a couple of times. I’m sorry if I didn’t ask permission, I mean --”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Mickie said. “Don’t worry about it.” _I’m used to Becky bringing home random girls,_ Mickie thought to herself. _But you’re not a random girl, are you, Miss Flair._

Becky was now introducing Charlotte to their other orgmates -- Bianca and Zelina and Lana and Candice and the rest. Again, Mickie heard her refer to Charlotte as “my girl,” and sighed. _What are you doing, Becky?_ she wondered. _Where are you going with this?_

*

They found their way to the balcony, as they had a handful of times over the past few months. They were seated on the floor, Charlotte’s head on Becky’s shoulder, with the Irish woman nursing a beer.

Charlotte was staring at her garden across the street; she could see how her sunflowers needed watering. _Tomorrow_ , she thinks. For now, there were more pressing matters to think of.

“Becky?” she says, quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Earlier… what you said.”

“Gonna need you to be more specific, lass,” Becky replied.

Charlotte closed her eyes for a second. “You called me your girl. More than once.”

Becky chuckled, then rasped out: “You noticed that, huh?”

“Kinda hard not to.”

Becky stood up straighter, then turned to look at Charlotte so that they were eye to eye. “I’m sorry,” she said, after a moment’s silence. “Were you uncomfortable with it? I should have checked with you before… I mean.” She took a deep breath. “I just wanted everyone to know that you’re with me. The most beautiful girl on campus, and you’re with me.”

Charlotte smiled at that, but Becky could tell something was still bothering her. She reached up to stroke Charlotte’s cheek, then asked: “What’s wrong, baby?”

Charlotte took a deep, shuddering breath. She didn’t want to cry. There was no reason to cry, actually. But at the same time… “Becky,” she said, “I just… I just know you. I know a lot of the women downstairs … have been in your room at one point or another.”

Becky sighed. “So we’re having this conversation now, huh?” she said. Her hands itch for a cigarette. “Okay, fine. I’m not going to deny that I slept with a lot of women. And yeah, a lot of them are downstairs right now.”

She reached out to clasp Charlotte’s hand. “But I haven’t been with anyone since … god, since the day I first came to your practice,” she said. “Since then, it’s only been you, Charlie, I promise.”

“Are you being honest with me right now?”

Becky took a deep breath. “I’ll always be honest with you,” she whispered. “I promise. I haven’t been with any other girl since that day.”

“Why?”

 _What a fantastic question,_ Becky thought. She briefly thought about Sasha’s challenge to her -- to crack Charlotte Flair’s shell. They haven’t discussed it in a while, and truthfully she had all but forgotten about that. She knew that if Charlotte ever learned of it, she would be hurt beyond belief, but there was no reason for her to find out about it: for Becky, that challenge, that bet, whatever the fuck it was, it was completely irrelevant now.

“I just wanted to get to know you,” she finally said, and that was still the truth. “You… you intrigued me.”

“Really?” Charlotte said, and now she was smiling, and relief flooded Becky’s bones like sunlight after a storm. “Intrigued you, huh?”

“Yeah, well,” Becky said, a note of bravado entering her voice. “I also thought you were hot, I have to admit.”

Charlotte laughed, and this time, Becky felt something else… something that felt strangely like adoration… twisting her insides and grabbing hold of her heart. She shook her head, then gently caressed Charlotte’s cheek. “I know you know _of_ me, Charlie,” she said. “I know Nattie told you a bunch of things. But I hope… I mean these past few months…” She took a deep breath. “Now, you know _me,_ right?”

Charlotte’s eyes were shining. “Yeah,” she replied, leaning into Becky’s hand. “I know you, Becky.”

“So… you’re my girl, right?” Becky asked. There was no reason to tell Charlotte that she would be Becky’s first _real_ girlfriend, not just a conquest, a notch in her bedpost.

There was an playful smile on Charlotte’s face. “I guess,” she said, shrugging. “I mean, it would be embarrassing to have to tell Mickie and Bianca and Zelina and Lana, and all your other fratmates  that you were just assuming things when you introduced me, right?”

Becky laughed and shook her head, drawing Charlotte closer in her arms. She felt Charlotte squeeze closer to her, and breathed a sigh of relief. She stared up at the stars; thunder rumbled in the distance. _My girl_ , she thought. _Charlotte Flair is my girl._

_Holy shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam (flairfatale on Tumblr) made an AMAZING playlist for Frat Daddy Becky and Sunshine Charlotte, please check them out: 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4aLC3IVOpPBVIUqeE5OMUP  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/74oKqqHJYi3KdbP0KvlAqD
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. the same way that the stars adorn the skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where everything gets messed up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a roller-coaster ride, please fasten your seatbelts. the title is from miguel's adorn.

_ First week of November _

Barely a week into her first official "relationship," and Becky came to the conclusion that this whole "having an actual girlfriend, not just somebody you fuck and then leave" thing was actually kind of great. She would pick up Charlotte every  morning, take her to class, text her every couple of hours, and then watch her at practice. When they had time, they’d meet during the day: she and Charlotte ate lunch together, each time exploring a different place in campus. Charlotte was a picky eater, she knew, but Becky was determined to get her to be more adventurous when it came to food.

And at night, after practice, she and Charlotte would drive somewhere -- some place just outside the campus, usually, where they would just… talk.

Charlotte would talk about her dreams of winning a national title, of someday playing for the U.S. national team, of her fears of disappointing her father who had invested so much in her. She would talk about the immense pressure that she felt as the team’s No. 1 option, and admit that sometimes, she wants to just run away from everything and be something else,  _ someone _ else other than the star player.

“I know it doesn’t make sense — I dream of being an Olympian but then I also want to run away from all this,” she once said, laughing weakly. “But it’s how I feel.”

In response, Becky had linked their pinkies together, and tugged Charlotte closer to her. “I understand.”

And Becky, in turn, opened up to Charlotte in a way she had never done with anyone else — she told her of how she and her family came to the States on nothing more than a dream and a prayer, how she had to scratch and claw for a scholarship just to make it to college. How grateful she was for Sheamus, who helped her stay on her feet as a freshman and even now treats her as family.

At some point, one of them would say something particularly soft, particularly vulnerable, and that was it — their nights would end with Charlotte in her lap in the backseat, with them making out heavily before Charlotte would pull away, out of breath and apologetic and regretful.

“It’s getting late,” she would say, and Becky would nod, even as she could feel two months’ worth of sexual frustration humming through her veins, even as she wanted, so badly, to drag Charlotte down to the backseat of her car again and just  _ fuck _ her, as the Irish woman had been wanting to since she met the tall blonde who had turned her entire world upside down.

But Charlotte would look at her with those green-blue (blue-green?) eyes glimmering with want, and then press her forehead to Becky’s. She would apologize, and Becky would assure her that it was fine. 

Because truthfully, it was. Oh, Becky was frustrated, to be sure; she wanted very badly to take Charlotte to her room at the frat house, and see if the volleyball player’s athleticism translated in the bedroom. She wanted to fully see the tightly muscled, gloriously powerful body that she only got little glimpses of. And she wanted to  _ hear _ Charlotte, she wanted to know how her adorable girlfriend would react when Becky was doing unspeakable things to her.

And yet, it was fine. Becky was fine. Because this … this  _ relationship _ was new, and Becky was basking in all the new things that she was experiencing -- even if that meant waiting just a little longer for Charlotte to be ready. 

(She and Charlotte had yet to talk about it, but Becky had an inkling that the tall blonde had never been intimate with anyone. Or, at least, with another woman.)

Besides, even if they weren’t sleeping together -- yet -- Becky found herself  _ still _ continually fascinated by Charlotte: it was almost surprising to her how they never seem to run out of things to talk about, and yet, somehow, even the silences between them were comfortable instead of awkward.

Thursday night found them in the same situation, with Charlotte whimpering in Becky’s lap as the redhead peppered kisses down her throat and across her shoulders. This time, however, Charlotte didn’t stop her when she slid her hand under her shirt, and instead leaned into her touch when Becky cupped her breasts.

“Charlie?” she asked, a little breathless. Becky knew the risk she was taking: they were in one of the university’s many parking lots, and yes it was late at night and yes it was mostly deserted, but still, the possibility of getting caught was there.

Charlotte was blushing, whether from shyness or from arousal, Becky couldn’t immediately tell. Until Charlotte rolled her hips, as if seeking closer contact, and then dipped her head for a heated kiss. 

This time, it was Becky who pulled away. “Baby,” she said, gasping for breath. “We’re still in public.” 

Charlotte pouted, but only for a moment. “I’m sorry, Becky,” she said. 

“What? No, you have nothing to be sorry for, lass, believe me,” Becky said, even as she reluctantly removed her hands from under Charlotte’s shirt -- but not before giving those glorious tits one last squeeze. “But we’re not doing this here, okay? Not when there’s a perfectly comfortable bed in my place.”

Charlotte giggled a little, and Becky grinned at the sound. “Come on,” the Irish woman said. “I’m taking you home. You have an 8:00 a.m. class, right?”

“Don’t remind me,” Charlotte replied with a groan. “Oh by the way. I was invited to a party tomorrow night.” She pulled out her phone, scrolling through her messages, then showed it to Becky. “The softball team is celebrating some milestone or whatever, and they invited pretty much all varsity teams.” She looked hopefully at Becky. “Will you go with me?”

“Babe, you don’t even have to ask,” Becky said, capturing Charlotte’s lips in one more kiss before letting her go. “Come on now. Can’t be late for curfew, otherwise Nattie might actually shoot me this time.” At Charlotte’s chuckle, Becky leveled her with a serious gaze. “Don’t laugh, baby. I’m pretty sure Nattie is contemplating buying a shotgun at this point.”

“Don’t worry about Nattie,” Charlotte said. “It’s actually Bayley you have to be concerned about.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Hmm… perhaps.”

*

_ Friday night _

When Charlotte said that  _ all _ the varsity teams were invited, she meant literally. That included the basketball and lacrosse teams, several members of which had spent considerable time in Becky’s bed over the past couple of years.

She choked a little when she caught sight of the lacrosse players, some of whom were lounging near the pool. Charlotte had immediately complained when she saw it. “How come the softball team got the house with a pool? We couldn’t even convince Nattie to install a bathtub in our place.” 

Becky wanted to laugh, but all that came out was a strained sound. After the lacrosse team, she saw several members of the basketball team, as well as a few other girls that she had slept with at some point. She didn’t even know that they were athletes.

“Becks?” Charlotte’s voice cut through her near-panic.

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you’d like to get a drink,” Charlotte said, frowning. “Are you okay?”

“Ah, yeah, of course,” Becky said, taking Charlotte’s hand and brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “I just thought I saw someone that I knew, but nah. Yeah, let’s get a drink.”

They were at the bar when Charlotte realized that this party was not a good idea. In the first place, she really didn’t want to go, but her teammates thought that it would be polite to make an appearance; after all, this was a fellow varsity team, and they should support each other, right? What Charlotte didn’t immediately grasp was how many of those girls in those varsity teams would be making fuck-me eyes at her girlfriend.

To her eternal credit, Becky was doing her absolute best to ignore them. She held Charlotte’s hand even as she ordered her drink, grimacing when she realized that neither Toni nor Nikki was the bartender. “This isn’t gonna be good,” she told Charlotte as she took the gin and tonic. “No one makes cocktails like Nikki, except for Toni.”

“Well,” Charlotte said, “I had no plans of drinking tonight, but now I really don’t want to.” 

Becky was about to reply when she heard her name being called out. “Oh shit,” she blurted out, as she saw a brunette making her way to the bar. 

Charlotte raised her head at the sound. “Becks?”

“Becky Lynch, as I live and breathe.”

Becky let out a sigh, then forced a smile. “Nikki,” she said, raising her glass. “How are you?”

Charlotte was stunned into silence. This was Nikki Bella, star of the university’s soccer team, and the girlfriend of one of the most popular football players in school. Why was she confronting Becky?

“How am I?” the woman responded, completely ignoring Charlotte. “I don’t know, Becky, how do you think I am? You said you were going to call me, and you didn’t!”

“Don’t make a scene, Nikki,” Becky said, her voice now frighteningly calm. Charlotte, beside her, could feel her heart begin to pound.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Nikki snarled in response, only for another woman -- who looked exactly like her -- to interrupt.

“Nikki, let’s go.”

“Listen to Brie, Nikki,” Becky advised, still as calm as ever. “Sleep it off, baby girl.”

“You asshole, I waited for you, I am still waiting for you and you just -”

“ _ Nicole _ .” And now Becky was standing, looking at the other woman straight in the eyes. “It’s really not that deep, babe. You were fun, but you got boring. Now go to your room, and sleep it off. You got it?”

There were tears in Nikki’s eyes; her little outburst had drawn plenty of attention. Her twin sister, Brie, was tugging on her arm, and together they left; as they walked away Charlotte could hear the sobs begin. She drew a deep breath, and turned to look at Becky.

The Irish woman was already seated and draining her gin and tonic, as if nothing had happened. Charlotte could feel plenty of eyes on them; she wondered how many other women in the room were just chomping at the bit to confront her girlfriend, too, just as Nikki --  _ Nikki Bella, holy shit  _ \-- did.

All of a sudden, she felt as though she couldn’t breathe.

Charlotte gripped the table top, and then exhaled. “Becky,” she said, her voice faint. “Can we leave?” 

Becky took one look at her, and nodded. “Yeah,” she said, “Let’s get out of here.”

They purposefully made their way out of the house, with Becky ignoring the dagger stares of several women there. Charlotte, however, couldn’t help but notice. And once they were alone, in Becky’s car, the fears and worries and apprehension that she had kept tamped down over the past couple of months burst out of her, in one distressing sob.

“Charlotte,” Becky said, uncertain. 

“I didn’t realize …” Charlotte took a deep breath, wiped at her eyes, and then began again. “I didn’t realize how many women you’ve hurt.”  _ And Nikki Bella, of all people? I didn’t even know she was into women, _ Charlotte thought.  _ Or maybe she’s just into Becky? _

The statement clearly stunned Becky. She opened her mouth to speak, but Charlotte held up her hand to stop her. “Becky… that girl… Nikki freaking Bella… she was  _ devastated _ . And I know Nattie, it’s taken her a while to deal with all this, too. And I know you saw just how many girls were looking at you like… like you hurt them.” Charlotte’s voice was growing progressively quieter. “You hurt them, Becky. Why?” Now, her blue-green (green-blue? Becky still couldn’t tell) eyes were swimming in tears, and she looked at Becky in despair. “Why would you do that?”

How do you answer a question that you’ve spent the past two years dodging? Becky gripped the steering wheel. “I thought we already talked about this,” she finally said, turning her head to avoid Charlotte’s gaze. 

“That was before I realized just how many … I don’t even wanna know the number,” Charlotte said with a humorless chuckle. “But there had to be over a dozen women there who looked like they wanted to kill me, or kill you.” She reached out to take Becky’s hand, which was still tightly gripping the wheel. “Becky,” she whispered. “Why? What happened?”  _ What happened to you? _

The Irish woman was gritting her teeth, her leg bouncing in a display of anxiety. For several moments, all Charlotte could hear was their own erratic breathing. 

“I don’t know, okay?” Becky finally said, her admission a gunshot in the silence. “I mean, it just started out as a little competition with Sasha, I guess, and then it just snowballed and I don’t know, I don’t know why I did that to them, I’m just… I’m just selfish, I suppose, selfish and easily bored and awful.” She pressed her head on her steering wheel, jumping back when her car horn honked, loudly.

“I don’t have any excuses,” Becky said, after a long silence. “Yes, I messed around and I hurt a lot of people. I’m not even sure why.” Another long pause, and then: “The only thing I’m sure of is… it’s not like that with you.”

Charlotte scoffed. “You expect me to believe that, Becky? After what I saw in there? How do I know that it isn’t just a line?”

“I promised to be always honest with you,” Becky said, her voice silent, somber.

“And how many other girls have you made that promise to, huh?”

“None. Just you.”

Charlotte opened her mouth to speak again, then thought better of it. She swallowed instead, and dropped her head back. 

“Charlotte,” Becky said, and now the blonde had to strain to hear the words. “Don’t you realize how new this is for me too? I have never done this before. I don’t do relationships. I’ve never had a girlfriend before you.” She let out of laugh that was more of a choked sob. “The longest 'relationship' I had before this lasted all of two weeks.”

“But it’s different with you. I thought…” She trailed off, unsure if she should continue, before deciding to plunge on. “I thought I would get bored, like I always do, but it hasn’t happened, and I don’t think it will. It’s different with you, I promise.” Becky took a deep breath. “It’s just… it’s you. It’s just you.”

Her confession -- for that was what it was, Becky pouring out her sins and asking to be forgiven -- was met with silence. Charlotte still had her eyes closed, but tears were escaping from the corners, and her own hands were balled into fists, digging into her thighs.

Inwardly, Becky was screaming at herself, the voice in her head so loud and angry and brutal that she could not understand what it was saying. All she knew was she had to make it right, she had to make  _ this _ right, she had to make Charlotte understand…

“Charlotte… I don’t know what I have to do, to prove to you that I’ve changed,” she said, her voice coming out even raspier than usual, her tears catching in her breath. “That was bad, back there, and I didn’t handle it as well as I could have. But it’s not like that with you,  _ I’m _ not like that with you, I promise.”

“Please,” she breathed out. “Trust me.”

For an agonizing moment, Becky thought she had blown the best thing to have ever happened to her. Charlotte was still silent; it was obvious that she was processing the night’s events, and what Becky had told her. The Irish woman closed her eyes, and braced for the worst: it was what she deserved.

“Becky,” Charlotte finally said, after a long while. “I don’t know if I trust you right now.” Becky nodded, steeling herself. “But I’m going to try.”

_ That _ was not what she expected Charlotte to say. Becky’s eyes flew open, and she stared at the woman next to her. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest; the fluttering in her stomach, the ones that always made themselves known whenever Charlotte was present, seemed to intensify.

Charlotte took her hand, and brushed a kiss across Becky’s knuckles. Becky gasped: that was  _ her _ move, her go-to, a tactic that brought women to their knees. Only this time, it was her who was floored at Charlotte’s actions. “I want to trust you, Becks,” Charlotte was saying, and the sound of her nickname sent relief coursing through Becky’s veins: she felt lightheaded, even as Charlotte continued to speak. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t,” she said, turning to grasp Charlotte’s hand, and holding it over her heart. “I promise, Charlotte.”

This time, the silence was more comfortable. Charlotte sighed softly, and tugged her hand from Becky’s clutches. “Will you take me home?” she asked.

“Ah- yeah,” Becky replied, surprised. Before she could stop herself, however, she turned to Charlotte and asked, hesitantly, awkwardly: “Charlotte, are we still… I mean, we’re… good, right? We’re still -”

An amused smile blossomed on Charlotte’s face as she realized what Becky was asking. “Oh, honey,” she said, and Becky wanted to hate the term of endearment, she really did, but all she felt was warmth. “This was just… a conversation. I’m not breaking up with you.”

The relief in Becky’s face was palpable, and surprising. Charlotte couldn’t help herself: she enveloped the Irish woman in an embrace, burying her face in Becky’s neck. “Take me home,” she breathes out as she lets Becky go.

_ Home _ was not Charlotte’s place, the room that she shared with Bayley.  _ Home _ was Becky’s small room at the frat house, filled with pictures from Becky’s adventures in the university, with her collection of snapbacks occupying an entire wall, her shoes and clothes scattered all over the floor. 

_ Home _ was the twin bed that they shared that night, with Becky’s arms wrapped around Charlotte, wondering what this feeling was, wondering why she didn’t want to let go of this woman, wondering why  _ this _ was so different, why  _ Charlotte _ was so different. 

_ Home _ was where Becky replayed the night’s events, and looked back at her words, and questioned what she had said:  _ It’s you. It’s just you. _

_ Home _ was where Charlotte was shifting in her arms, and Becky was tightening her hold on her girlfriend, and was burying her head in the other woman’s wavy blonde hair. 

“I don’t understand any of this, Charlie,” she murmured, knowing she would get no answer from the sleeping woman. “What have you done to me?”

*

_ Third week of November _

It was only in their fourth visit to Cesaro and Sheamus’ restaurant that Charlotte discovered its name: The Bar. The two men were endlessly charming, and it was clear they cared about Becky and considered her family. It greatly amused Charlotte to hear Sheamus checking up on Becky’s academics, while Cesaro went on and on about her eating habits.

“You know you can’t survive on just quinoa, right, Rebecca?” he had asked.

“Watch me,” her girlfriend had shot back.

_ Girlfriend _ . It still sent shivers down Charlotte’s spine whenever she referred to Becky as such, but that was nothing compared to the absolute chills that she got whenever they would go somewhere, and Becky introduced as her “my girl.” 

_ “Your what now?” Cesaro had asked, shocked, when he met Charlotte for the first time.  _

_ “My girlfriend,” Becky had repeatedly, slowly, patiently. “Sheamus already met her. Hey Sheamu, you remember Charlotte, right?” _

_ The look on Sheamus’ face could only be described as confused. “Yeah, I remember the lass,” he finally said. “But why is she…"  _

_ “Becky says she’s her girlfriend,” Cesaro butted in, and Sheamus’ jaw dropped, quite literally.  _

_ “Girlfriend?” he had asked. “You?” _

_ “You don’t need to look so surprised,” Becky had grumbled, even as she clasped Charlotte’s hand. “Ignore them, Charlie, they have no manners.” _

_ “Oh I’m sorry, Miss Charlotte,” Sheamus said. “It’s just that Becky here has never brought the same girl here twice, much less introduced one as her girlfriend.” He immediately turned to his husband, as if the Irishman had not just revealed information that stunned Charlotte. “This needs to be celebrated immediately. A feast! For the couple!” _

That had been a couple of weeks ago, and since then they had returned to The Bar at least twice a week. Charlotte genuinely enjoyed the food, and Cesaro and Sheamus made for nice company even when they were conspiring to tease Becky endlessly.  _ Especially _ when they were conspiring to tease Becky endlessly.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you used to do that jig for family reunions,” Sheamus was saying, even as he put down a plate of quinoa and a burger in front of Becky. It was Thursday night, and they were having dinner at The Bar.

“We agreed to never bring that up ever again!” Becky exclaimed in response, frowning at her friend.

“Wait, what’s a jig?” Charlotte asked.

“Nothing,” Becky answered immediately, just as Cesaro responded: “It’s kind of an Irish dance.”

“You danced?” Charlotte asked, a smile growing on her face. “Do you have videos? Can I see?”

“Cesaro,” Becky said, her voice flat, “If you show my woman that video, we’re never coming back here.”

“Please, you can’t survive without our food.”

Sheamus handed Charlotte her egg white omelette. “I’ll find a way to show ‘em to you, lass,” he told her in a stage whisper. “Little Rebecca here looked so charmin’, wearing all green and doing that jig.”

“Sheamu, I will kill you,” Becky snarled, though the threat was undermined with how she was stuffing her mouth full of quinoa.

“You’re cute even when you’re being all violent,” Charlotte said, and Becky couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Thank you, baby,” she replied. “But you’re still never seeing that video.”

*

She wanted to freshen up a bit before Becky took her home, so Charlotte excused herself to go to the restroom. She was in the midst of applying her lip gloss when the door swung open, and a familiar person walked in.

Charlotte opted to stay silent as the tiny blonde that she now knows as Alexa Bliss stood next to her and began to brush her hair, still tinged with bright pink. She was just about to close her purse and leave when the other woman broke the tense silence.

“You’re Charlotte, right? Charlotte Flair?” 

She saw no reason to lie. “Yeah,” she said. “Alexa, right?”

If Alexa was surprised that Charlotte knew her name, she didn’t show it. “I heard that you’re… Becky’s… girlfriend,” she said, then looked at the much taller woman up and down. “I don’t see it.”

“Don’t see what, exactly?” Charlotte said, feeling anger begin to simmer under her skin.  _ Who does she think she is?  _

“I don’t see how you took Becky off the market,” Alexa said, her eyes blazing. “You? What does she see in you?”

Charlotte had often asked herself the same question. Even now, as she stared at Alexa, she couldn’t help but compare herself to the shorter woman -- who was at once gorgeous and adorable, with a body that Charlotte knew Becky was intimately familiar with. She thought back to the other girls that were snuggled up to Becky in their back-to-school party, all those months ago; she wondered how she measured up to them.

“I mean, you’re tall, I guess,” Alexa was saying. “But other than that? Come on.” The other woman looked at Charlotte speculatively. “What do you let her do to you?” she suddenly asked. “Are you into that kinky shit? You let her tie you up?”

Charlotte looked taken aback. “What the- That’s none of your business,” she said stiffly. “And this conversation is over.”

“No, seriously, tell me what you did to get Becky to commit to you.” Suddenly, Alexa’s voice sounded desperate; gone was the condescending tone she was using earlier. “She hasn’t replied to  _ any _ of my messages in months. She didn’t even look my way when I entered this place.” There was a pout on the blonde’s face, and she said, “She hasn’t been replying to  _ anyone _ . What the hell did you do to our daddy?”

At Alexa’s words, a grin spread across Charlotte’s face. “Listen, Alexa,” she said, imperiously looking down on the other woman. “I don’t know exactly what I did to get Becky. All I know is, she’s with me, she  _ likes _ me, and there’s nothing you or any other girl in this campus can do about it.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Charlotte said, picking up her purse, “My  _ girlfriend _ is waiting for me out there.”

Charlotte didn’t bother waiting for a reply; she needed to get to Becky. Because truthfully, even after Becky started calling referring to her as “my girl,” even after her impassioned speech at the night of the softball team’s party, Charlotte still couldn’t quite let go of that little cloud of doubt in her mind, the one that questioned Becky’s intentions.

What made it all the more difficult was that the women on campus didn’t appear to get the memo that Becky was very much taken. Charlotte bristled every time they walked together in campus and a girl would approach, making fuck-me eyes at Becky as though they couldn’t see Charlotte, literally beside her. It didn’t matter that Becky would brush them off anyway; the very fact that women continued to come up to her girlfriend rankled at the tall blonde.

_ “It’s like they don’t even see that I’m there,” she had complained one time, on their way back to Becky’s car after having coffee at a local patisserie. The waitress had a previous tryst with Becky, and tried to slip her number when they went to pay their bill. _

_ “Charlotte, just ignore them,” Becky said. “That’s what I do.” _

_ “But she gave you her number!” _

_ “And I didn’t take it,” the Irish woman replied calmly. “Babe, come on. Don’t you trust me?” _

_ Charlotte bit her lip. “I told you, I’m trying,” she said softly. _

After hearing Alexa’s words, however, Charlotte could feel that little cloud of doubt begin to evaporate. Months, she had said. This gorgeous woman, whom Becky had very obviously slept with before, had been trying to contact her for months, and Becky had ignored her every time. And it wasn’t just her -- multiple women had been texting Becky, and she’d rebuffed every single one.

She was smiling widely when she reached the parking lot outside of the building, where Becky was waiting, leaning against her car.

“Hey,” the redhead said as Charlotte approached. “Thought you got lost.”

“Nah,” Charlotte said, sliding into the passenger seat. Before Becky could start the car, however, Charlotte tugged at her hand. “Becks,” she murmured, her voice heated; she knew that Becky could tell what she wanted, what she needed.

“Charlie?” Becky sounded amused, but humored her girlfriend nevertheless: she pushed the driver’s seat as far back as it would go, then took Charlotte in her lap. “Oh, we’re gonna get in so much trouble, baby,” she said, even as she began to kiss Charlotte’s jaw before finally locking lips with the tall blonde.

Charlotte knew they shouldn’t be doing this in public, but she couldn’t help herself. She deepened the kiss, then slid her hands under Becky’s shirt. Becky responded by reaching out to cup her breasts through her blouse, only to pull away after a few seconds. 

“Okay,” she said, slightly out of breath. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, but uh… Charlotte? We can’t do this here, babe.”

“But we are doing this, right?”

Charlotte’s hands were still under her shirt, one hand playing with the catch on her bra, the other at the small of her back. Becky took a deep, shuddering breath, then ran her hands over Charlotte’s bare arms. “What brought this on?” she asked, finally. Heated make-out sessions between the two of them were normal by now, but Charlotte would be the one to pull back more often than not. For her to ask this… alarm bells suddenly rang in Becky’s head.

“Nothing,” Charlotte answered, a little too flippantly for Becky’s liking. At the Irish woman’s frown, Charlotte sighed and said, “I may have ran into one of your ex-girlfriends.”

“I have no ex-girlfriends,” Becky said immediately, and warmth flooded Charlotte’s body at her words. She couldn’t help it; she leaned forward and gave Becky a soft, sweet kiss. 

“Okay, not an ex-girlfriend, but… you know her. Alexa?” 

Becky groaned. Alexa had been texting her regularly over the past couple of months, but Becky had ignored every single one of her messages. Suddenly, she was worried: had Alexa made up a story about them? 

“She said you haven’t replied to her texts in months,” Charlotte continued. There was an playful grin on her face. “Then she asked me: ‘What did you do to our daddy?’” 

At that, Becky laughed and drew Charlotte closer; there was no space separating them now. “What did you tell her?”

“That it didn’t matter what I did, because you’re my girlfriend, and you’re with me,” she answered. Charlotte pressed her forehead to Becky’s, and closed her eyes. “I want to be with you,” she murmured.

She knew what Charlotte was trying to say, but Becky still wanted to be sure. “Look at me, love,” she said. When Charlotte opened her eyes, she continued. “I want you to be certain.”

The tall blonde was biting her lip. Becky moved to cup her face, and said: “Charlie, I want you to be sure about this. We’re not gonna do anything unless, and until, you definitely,  _ definitely _ want to. So … be sure.”

Charlotte nodded. “I’m sure,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I’m sure, Becky. I -” A deep breath. “I  _ trust  _ you.”

This time, it was Becky who needed to take a breath. Then, she pulled Charlotte down to her, capturing her lips in a deep kiss, tangling her tongue with Charlotte’s. She broke it only to kiss her way down Charlotte’s jaw and her throat, before finally pulling back and stopping. 

“Alright, baby,” Becky said. “But my first time with you won’t be in this car, as hot as that may be.”

Charlotte was pouting. Now that she decided that she  _ wanted _ Becky, she didn’t want to wait, not anymore. “Take me to your room then,” she said, rolling her hips against Becky’s, trying to ease some of the pressure she was feeling. 

Becky laughed. “Oh no, baby.” She booped Charlotte’s nose, then said: “Let me plan this. I’m going to make it perfect for you. You have Monday off, right?” At the blonde’s nod, Becky grinned. “Sunday night. I’m going to rock your world, Charlie. You’re not gonna want to leave my bed.” She gave her one last kiss, before lifting Charlotte up and moving her to the passenger seat. “But now we have to leave, because we’re going to get caught here, and I don’t want to have to explain that to Cesaro and Sheamus.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to make me wait,” Charlotte said, still pouting. “I can’t believe  _ you _ want to wait.”

_ I can’t believe it, either _ , Becky thought, wondering what the hell was wrong with her. Her girlfriend wanted to have sex with her  _ now _ , and was so hot for it that she was willing to get it on in the car. And yet,  _ she _ stopped them from going any further.  _ I’m done, _ she thought.  _ I’m so done for, and I’m not even mad.  _

She didn’t say any of this, of course, and instead just smiled at Charlotte. “A little patience, baby,” she murmured. “A little patience.”

*

“So let me get this straight. She wanted to go back to your room and have sex with you, and you said… No?”

“No, what I said was, let me plan it so that it’s gonna be perfect.”

“Uh-huh. Are you sure that’s what she heard, though?”

Becky frowned at Sasha. “What the  _ fuck _ are you talking about?” It was a cool Friday afternoon, and they were at the balcony. Sasha was calmly smoking a blunt; Becky had turned down the offer.

Sasha inhaled. “I’m just saying, Becks, she literally threw herself at you, and you said no. What if she thinks you don’t wanna have sex with her?”

“I do want to have sex with her! She knows that! She’s known that for months!” Becky narrowed her eyes at Sasha, who was now shaking with laughter. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m high as fuck, and it’s fun to see you like this. You’re … flustered! About a girl! Damn, Becky,” Sasha replied, still chortling. “If you told me four months ago that you, of all people, would turn down a night of hot sex with a gorgeous girl, because you wanted to make it  _ perfect _ , I would have slapped you upside the head.”

“Why must you always resort to violence?” Becky said. “And shut up.”

“I’m just saying, Becky, she really has you by the throat,” Sasha said. She looked at Becky again, this time curiously. “And you don’t mind it, don’t you?”

Becky shrugged. “Charlotte is… special,” she said, after a brief pause. “I mean… at first I thought it was just the chase, you know? She was making me work for everything, and that was new, but even after I got to know her… she’s just special, Sash. We never run out of things to talk about. She’s the pickiest eater in the world but she’s so willing to try new things when I ask her to. She even laughs at my puns! I mean… who does that?”

Sasha was staring at her with hazy eyes. She opened her mouth, and for a second, Becky thought her friend was about to say something insightful. But then, suddenly, Sasha grinned maniacally, and said, “Whipped.”

“Oh fuck you!” Becky said. “I’m not… that. It’s just that… Sasha, she trusts me. She said she  _ trusts _ me.” She had to take a second to calm herself down. “That’s … Isn’t that amazing? She trusts me.”

“So you’ve cracked her shell, then?”

Becky looked up sharply at Sasha’s words. The unwanted reminder of her best friend’s little challenge, from all those months ago, annoyed her. “It’s not like that,” she said.

“I mean, that was the challenge, right? You crack Charlotte Flair’s shell, and I give you… something. I never even thought of what it could be. But that was the deal.”

“Sasha, there is no deal,” Becky said, now impatient. “It’s not like that, okay? Fuck that stupid challenge, I don’t care about it. Not anymore.”

“I’m just saying, you won it.”

Becky pinched the bridge of her nose. Talking to Sasha while she was a high was always an exercise in patience, but she was getting annoyed. “And I’m just saying, I don’t care about it, whether I won it or not -”

A choked gasp, a sound that is by now so familiar to Becky, interrupted her rant before she could even begin. Becky felt the color drain from her face as she saw Charlotte, standing in the attic of the frat house, inches from the entrance of the balcony.

“Charlotte,” she said, trying to stay calm. “How much of that did you -”

Charlotte didn’t let Becky finish her sentence. She turned around and bolted for the door, not seeing how Becky shot an angry look at Sasha before making her way back inside the house. But she heard Becky call out her name, heard her girlfriend --  _ is she still my girlfriend? _ \-- running after her, even as she made her way down the staircase. She could hear Becky’s footsteps, drawing nearer and nearer, but Charlotte was faster, her legs longer, and she was already on her way out of the frat house by the time Becky managed to get to the bottom of the steps.

She crossed the street as swiftly as she can, running back to their house, back to where Becky couldn’t see that tears were already falling from her eyes, to where Becky couldn’t see as she fell apart, her own thoughts splintering inside her head.

Becky tries to catch up with her, she really did, but Charlotte was inside the house by the time she reached the garden, the garden with the sunflowers that Charlotte so deeply treasured. She reaches the door and tries to stop it from closing, tries to stop Charlotte from slamming it in her face. But all of a sudden, it wasn’t Charlotte who was keeping her out, but Nattie -- Nattie who pushed Becky away, even as she caught a glimpse of Charlotte falling into Bayley and Carmella’s arms.

She tried to push her way in when she heard Charlotte sob, but Nattie was there, firmly holding her back.

“Nattie,” Becky said, her voice raspy and desperate and pained. “Nattie, please, I just need to talk to her.”

The look that Nattie gave her was cold, but there was a hint of pity there, a touch of sadness. Becky did not know which part was worse.

“Oh Becky,” Nattie said, even as she began to close the door. “I knew you would fuck this up.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is angst everywhere i'm sorry


	9. i thought i could fly, why did i drown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to where it all started, as everyone deals with the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from Jason Walker's "Down."

_ First week of December _

"You’re not a dumbass for falling in love."

Becky recoiled at that. "Who said anything about love?" she said, but her protest was weak, and she knew it. Sasha looked supremely unimpressed at her denial. Her best friend grabbed the cigarette from her fingers, lit it, and brought it to her lips.

"You can lie to Charlotte, you can lie to this whole damn school, you can lie to yourself," Sasha said, before taking a drag of the cigarette. "But you can't lie to me. I'm the Boss, remember? And more than that -- I'm your best friend. I  _ know _ you."

"Well, then you should know that I didn't ask to fall in love with her!" Becky groused. "I just wanted… I don't know, I guess I wanted to get into her pants, like with the rest. And I was ready to give up! I didn't even want to chase her or anything.  _ You  _ made me do it!" The last part was said, accusingly, at Sasha.

Who, in response, blew a ring of smoke right in Becky's face. 

"You're still lying to yourself, Becks. You already knew you were going to go after her. You just needed a push," she said. "Don't turn that stupid challenge into an excuse, Becky. You were infatuated with her from the very start. You looked at her like she was the fucking  _ sun. _ Even if I hadn't said anything, you were always going to pursue her."

Sasha took one last puff, then butted out the cigarette against the balcony. "Unfortunately for you, she didn't turn out the way the other girls did. She kept you hooked. She got you talking about your childhood memories, and your fears and hopes and dreams or whatever." At this, she smirked. "Bitch, she didn't even need to sleep with you to keep you interested. You're hooked. You're in love. Own it, Rebecca."

"Don't call me Rebecca."

Sasha shrugged. "Whatever."

They were silent for a few minutes. Sasha caught Becky staring, longingly, at the sunflowers across the street, and felt pity for her best friend. It was clear that Becky was hurting -- something she'd never felt before. Usually,  _ she  _ caused the pain -- with a little bit of help from Sasha herself.

Sasha gripped the balcony ledge tightly, wondering what she could do, what she could say to make the situation even just the tiniest bit better. As much as Becky took responsibility for what happened with Charlotte, she knew that she had something to do with it, too -- she couldn't keep her big mouth shut. It didn't matter that neither of them knew that Charlotte was there at the balcony; Sasha knew she could have been more careful -- she  _ should _ have been more careful.

_ Becky was so happy _ , she thought, a little bit wistful. It wasn't the first time the sentiment had crossed her mind in the past few days.

"What are you gonna do?" Sasha, finally, asked.

"I don't know," Becky sighed. "They have a game next week, and after that I know she's gonna go home, and … I just don't know. She's not answering my texts. And Nattie has me barred from the gym, so I can't go there either." Another sigh. "I just want a chance to explain, okay. That's all I want."

Sasha tilted her head. "I have an idea."

"No."

"No, this is good, listen." Sasha grinned. "Why don't you have like, a huge-ass banner made for her? Like get a tarpaulin or something, with the words 'I'm sorry' on it? Unfold it during the game! That should get her attention."

Becky stared at Sasha for a few seconds. "Are you fucking high?" she finally barked. "That'll embarrass her. Besides, I'm never close enough to the court for her to see me, anyway."

"Why the fuck not?"

"I always sit at the top of the bleachers," Becky said. "I don't want her to be distracted by me." 

At that, Sasha snorted. "You mean, you were embarrassed to be seen watching volleyball for a  _ girl.  _ And also, you wanted to ogle the other players without her noticing." When Becky dipped her head in shame, Sasha knew she had struck jackpot. 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Becky. Were you still checking out other girls when you were with her?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "And that's just the thing. I went up there and I thought I could watch the other girls, too, but I just kept going back to her. I could not take my eyes off of her." Becky groaned. "God, what did she do to me?"

At this, Sasha smiled gently, and put her arms around her best friend. "Hey," she said. "It's okay, Becks. I don't know her as well as you do, but it's clear that she's amazing."

"Yeah," Becky said, sounding miserable. "And I messed it all up."

"I mean, I may have helped a bit in that."

"No, Sash. I never should have agreed to that stupid challenge. And to be honest with you, I forgot all about it. I don't even remember -- I mean, did we even agree what my 'reward' was gonna be?" she asked.

Sasha shook her head. "Nah."

Silence, again. Sasha tapped her fingers against the balcony, then asked: "So… what's your plan?"

"I have an idea," Becky said. "I'm pretty sure it won't work, but… I have to try, right?"

*

_ Second week of December _

A couple of months ago, after their second game, Charlotte had asked her if she truly attended the match. "I didn't see you anywhere," Charlotte had said. Becky had told her that she was at the top of the bleachers, and Bayley had vouched for her. "I saw her make her way there, Char," Bayley had said. "Best view of the entire gym, right Becky?"

At the time, Becky had nodded in agreement. But now, she knew she needed to sit somewhere else, somewhere Charlotte can see her. She had never gone to the Athletics Office before, because Charlotte gave her tickets to every game, but now she found herself talking to the secretary and asking for the most expensive seats.

"Courtside tickets, ma'am, as close to the court as possible," Becky was explaining, as patiently as she could. "You still sell that, right?"

"Yes, but not usually to students," the secretary said. "Usually it's for alumni, and parents of the players." She checked Becky's ID. "I don't think you're an alumnus yet, Miss… Lynch."

Becky gritted her teeth. "Can I just have the ticket, please?"

The secretary shrugged and gave it to her. "That'll be $50," she said. Becky quickly paid up, not wanting to stay there any longer than she needed to. As she made her way out, she noticed a small store selling replica jerseys and shirts. Against her own will, she entered, and sighed as she realized that they had an entire rack just for the volleyball team.

_ Oh, she's going to hate me so much _ , Becky thought, before taking a t-shirt bearing "Flair" and the number six on the back and paying for it.  _ I don't even know what I'm doing.  _

On game day, she went to the arena early, trying to be as low-key as possible. She sat in her designated seat -- which was so close to the court, she knew she was at risk of getting hit by a ball. But it also gave her a perfect view of the players as they came out -- meaning she saw Charlotte make her way to the court, and saw how the statuesque blonde stuttered to a stop when she caught sight of her.

Becky saw how Charlotte's brow furrowed at the sight of her, wearing a "Flair" shirt for all the world to see. The Irish woman tried to offer a tentative smile, but the curve of her lips dropped downwards, instead, when she saw how Charlotte's entire face darkened, how she turned to Bayley and muttered something before shaking her head. 

If watching the game from the bleachers made her feel anxious, then being so close to the action nearly gave Becky a heart attack. She gasped every time Charlotte leapt through the air, every time she rolled after a dig, every time she trooped to the service line. She wanted, so badly, to cheer for Charlotte, to yell in pride at every point that she scored, but the dark look in the blonde's face stopped her. It was clear that Charlotte was playing with anger -- not once during the game did she smile, not even when she ended it with a vicious crosscourt hit. She didn't celebrate with her teammates; Charlotte went through the motions of shaking hands, then stormed off to the locker room.

Becky leaned back against her $50-seat, and closed her eyes. She could feel tears stinging behind her eyelids, and stubbornly refused to set them free.

*

Becky  _ needed _ a cigarette. She hadn't smoked in months, and her hands were shaking, her heart beating too fast as she waited for Charlotte outside the arena. Some members of the team had already made their way out; they all either ignored her, or looked at her in disdain.

Bayley was the exception: the libero shook her head at Becky and gave her a sad smile. "Good luck," she whispered as she walked past, having to run to catch up to Carmella. 

Moments later, Charlotte herself walked out, her hair still dripping from her shower, her bag clutched in her hand. She was looking straight ahead, but she was moving fast, as if she couldn't get away quickly enough. 

But Becky was determined to at least  _ try _ and get something done. She pushed herself from where she had been leaning against her car, grabbed the bouquet of flowers that was sitting in the driver's seat, then tentatively approached Charlotte. 

… who proceeded to walk past, swiftly, as if she didn't even see Becky.

"Charlotte," Becky said, softly, as the tall blonde kept walking, her head held high -- blatantly ignoring her. "Charlotte, please."

She didn't even turn around. 

"Give it up, Becky."

Becky sighed, her hand falling to her sides. The flowers, she knew, were ruined.

"Hey, Nattie," she said, her voice soft. "I suppose you're not going to put in a good word for me, huh?"

Nattie laughed, but it was a nasty sound. "I just knew you would find a way to fuck this up. A bet? With Sasha? Really Becky?"

"It wasn't a bet," she said through clenched teeth and clenched fists. "And I just need to explain that to her."

"Well, whatever it was, she knows you weren't being honest with her this whole time," Nattie said. "And of course, I was right. You hurt her, just like you hurt me."

Becky wanted to fire a retort, but for once, she had nothing to say to Natalya. She looked down, bit her lip, then took a deep breath. "Nattie," she finally said. "I'm sorry. For everything."

It was obviously not what Nattie had expected to hear; she looked completely surprised at Becky's words. Finally, she said: "Are you kidding me right now, Becky?"

"I was an asshole to you, and I'm sorry," Becky said. "This doesn't have anything to do with Charlotte. I just… I just wanted to apologize."

Nattie crossed her arms in front of her, then frowned. "Well, I don't forgive you," she responded. "And I don't know if Charlotte ever will, either."

Becky could again feel tears stinging in her eyes, but there was no way she was going to cry in front of Nattie, apologies be damned. "I just need a chance to explain to her," she said, her voice raspy and desperate and sad. "Just  _ one _ chance, Nattie."

"You got your chance and you blew it, Becky," Nattie said. "I don't think she wants anything to do with you right now."

For a moment, Nattie felt something close to pity as she saw Becky's face fall even further into despair. The flowers that she was holding were drooping to the ground, as if they too were weighed down by Becky's sadness.  _ Flowers _ . Charlotte had a steady supply of them when she and Becky had been dating; the tall blonde had thrown all of them into the trash the night after she had fled from the frat house, sobbing.

It was the memory of Charlotte in tears that prevented Nattie from truly feeling any sort of sympathy for Becky. The Irish woman may be desolate right now, but Nattie knew that it could not compare to the sheer pain that Becky had inflicted on the dozens of women that she had fucked and then left behind over the past couple of years -- a list that includes her.

This, Nattie knew, was Becky's comeuppance. And as far as she was concerned, Becky deserved this misery that she was feeling, and more.

"Don't come near Charlotte again, Becky," Nattie warned, finally. "You never deserved her, and now she knows that too."

"As a matter of fact," she continued, "Don't come near any of us. If I see you anywhere near our house, I'll shoot you. That's a promise."

*

Of course the frat was having a Christmas party.

It was December 17th, the last day of classes at the university. Everyone was mostly checked out of academic mode; Charlotte had seen several students walking around campus with their eyes glazed over, clearly already thinking of the holidays. She herself was supposed to leave on the 18th, with her father picking her up in the afternoon.

She was tired, both physically and emotionally. Their season was about three-quarters of the way through; a couple of more wins were all they needed to gain a spot in the national tournament. Charlotte could look at her performances with some detachment, and say in all honesty that she was having a good year. During games she would hear whispers that she was being considered for all-state honors, maybe even all-American, and she'd have to work hard to ignore them.

Even harder to ignore, however, was how spent she was emotionally. This entire saga with Becky had rocked her to her core: she had wanted, so badly, to follow Nattie's advice and keep Becky at arm's length, regardless of the redhead's attempts. Nattie had warned her of how charming Becky could be, how persistent, how determined in getting what she wanted. 

Charlotte heard all those warnings, she really did. But truthfully, they went in one ear and out the other.

Because she had fallen, fast and hard, for the Irish woman, and Charlotte genuinely thought that the feeling was mutual, that Becky had feelings for her as well -- feelings that weren't all about getting her to Becky's bed. After all, didn't she sleep over, multiple times, at the frat house, and Becky had not tried anything? Didn't Becky say that she wanted everything to be  _ perfect _ for their first time?

_ Apparently she was just waiting to find out what was in it for her, from Sasha _ , Charlotte thought bitterly, remembering the conversation she had walked into. Becky told her that she was always,  _ always _ , welcome at the balcony, no matter what time, no matter the circumstances. 

Well, so much for that.

Sasha saying that  _ challenge was to crack Charlotte Flair's shell _ was imprinted in her mind.  _ That was the deal _ . Those words repeatedly echoed in her brain, no matter how much she tried to shut them out, no matter how hard she tried to push her hands against her ears and attempted to  _ physically  _ shake the memories from her head.

That Becky had replied with  _ "There is no deal _ " had barely registered to Charlotte: the realization that Becky had only pursued her, only  _ courted  _ her, as a response to Sasha's challenge immediately broke her heart.

And Sasha saying, matter-of-factly, almost blandly, that Becky  _ won _ the deal? It was, quite simply, too much for her to take. There was no other option for her: she had to run.

There were tears in her eyes, and she wiped at them almost absently. She had cried enough tears over Becky Lynch; she was done. She was going to go home, celebrate Christmas with her family, and when she comes back next year, she was going to put all her focus on volleyball and academics.  _ That's it _ , she thought.  _ No more girls, definitely no guys, and most definitely no Becky _ . 

When she walked out of her room, she was surprised to see several of her teammates -- including Nattie -- all dressed up. "You're … going out?" she asked, hesitantly.

"We were invited to the frat's Christmas party, Char," Nattie said. "It seemed rude to turn them down."

That Nattie would willingly go to the frat house for a party confused Charlotte, but she was too heartbroken to dwell on whatever their team manager was planning. "Okay," she responded, quietly. "Have fun, I guess."

"You're not coming?" Carmella asked. "I mean… I think half the school is gonna be there."

"You'll just have to make do without me," Charlotte said. "I still have to pack, anyway."

"I heard Alexa Bliss was gonna be there," Bayley offered. "And uh, that other girl… Paige, I think her name was? Charlotte, you know they -"

"I know who they are," she interrupted. "And I know what they want." She sighed. "It doesn't matter, Bay. It's okay. She can do whatever or whomever she wants, I don't care."

None of them needed to ask who "she" was.

They left Charlotte to her own devices, eventually. Nattie gave her one final, sad smile before leaving; Charlotte wondered what had changed, in the span of a couple of days, for Nattie to willingly go to the frat house after all but banning Becky from approaching her or any member of the team.

_ It doesn't matter _ , she decided. It doesn't matter, because she was done with Becky Lynch, remember? She was going to ignore the Irish woman if she ever showed up to their games again, the way she did earlier that week when she walked past Becky -- Becky who was wearing her replica jersey, clutching a bouquet of flowers and looking so sad and yet so hopeful.

It had taken all of her strength to keep walking, to not even look in the other woman's direction. It had taken all of her strength to  _ not _ confront Becky and ask her  _ why _ , to ask her if everything she had said was a lie for the sake of her  _ deal _ with Sasha. It had taken all of her strength to not collapse in Becky's arms, and tell her that it didn't matter, and tell her that she wanted to be with the Irish woman still.

It had taken all of her strength, but Charlotte was determined to keep being strong. 

For now, however, all she wanted to do was to water her sunflowers for the last time before leaving for home. She had already talked to someone from the university's maintenance department, and they said they would try to water the plants at least every other day, while she was away. But at least before leaving, she could take care of the blooms that had brought her so much joy over the past few months.

She didn't expect the deluge of people on their block as she went out to their garden. Her teammates were right: it was as if half the campus was heading to the frat house. She frowned as she caught sight of Alexa Bliss and Paige, both of whom were dressed to kill. Charlotte was well aware that they only had one objective that night.

The tall blonde sighed. Unbidden, almost instinctively, she looked up, glancing at the balcony of the frat house, then gasped.

Becky was there, staring right at her. 

For a moment, their eyes met, and Charlotte felt her world go still.

Becky was alone. No Sasha, no Alexa, no Paige, no Toni, no other woman in the balcony. Just her and the stars, the cold Christmas breeze, and the ghosts of the months past. 

Charlotte took a deep breath, then looked away. 

Calmly, almost leisurely, she watered her sunflowers. 

Calmly, almost leisurely, she walked back to the house.

She could  _ feel _ Becky's eyes on her, still, as she made her way.

Charlotte refused to look back. 

She closed the door, and locked it. And then, the tears came. This time, she could not stop them.

*

"What time is your dad coming?" Nattie asked.

"Around 5:00 p.m., I think," Charlotte said.

It was 10:00 a.m. Her clothes were still strewn all over the floor of their room. After seeing Becky the night before, Charlotte had no energy to pack up her stuff; instead, she spent the night crying herself to sleep.

So much for being done with Becky Lynch.

She didn't know when Bayley and Nattie and the rest of the team had made their way back to the house, but it had to be well after midnight. Her roommate was still conked out, but Nattie was watching her navigate the mess on the floor while drinking coffee.

"How was the party?" Charlotte finally asked.

"Mostly fun," Nattie replied. "Though a bunch of girls left early when it became clear that Becky had no intention of making an appearance."

Charlotte knew Nattie was baiting her. She shrugged, then began folding her t-shirts. 

"Mickie told me she spent the entire night up at her balcony," Nattie continued. "Apparently she's been there every night since you … ran out on her."

"Nattie," Charlotte said abruptly. "Do you have a point?"

The older woman fixed her with a glare. "Well, to be honest with you Charlotte, I was going to say 'I told you so'," Nattie admitted. "But that seemed immature." Charlotte only scoffed in response, but Nattie elected to ignore that. "So I'm just gonna stand here and drink coffee, while you pile your clothes into your suitcase."

"You could help, you know," Charlotte said mildly. 

Nattie laughed, then shook her head. "I don't think so, saucy," she said. They were silent for a few moments; the only sound was the rustling of clothes as Charlotte continued to fold them. Finally, Nattie spoke up again. "For what it's worth, Charlotte, I really thought she had changed, too. Everyone did."

"Yeah, well," Charlotte said quietly. "Leopards and spots, and all that."

"Becky's not a leopard," a new voice -- a familiar voice --  butted in. "She's probably more of a stray kitten."

"Sasha, what are you doing here?" Nattie asked, nearly dropping her mug in shock at the sight of The Boss, Sasha Banks, leaning against the door while wearing nothing but a t-shirt, which fell halfway to her thighs. 

"Or maybe a stray puppy, even," Sasha continued, as if Nattie had not interrupted. "But a leopard? Please. That's too… majestic for Becky. Becky is a dork."

"Sasha. What are you doing here," Nattie again asked, enunciating each word.

The Boss gave her a shit-eating grin. "You didn't see me come in with you guys last night? I've been in Billie and Peyton's room all night," Sasha said, referring to two of their bench players. Nattie felt her jaw drop, and Charlotte had to stop folding her clothes, too.

"I thought you wanted Bayley and Carmella," Charlotte said, after a few more seconds of silence.

"And I had them already --  _ twice _ ," Sasha said dismissively. "And I'll have them again soon, I'm sure. Billie and Peyton were fun, though. But they were kinda noisy. Had to gag both of them last night or they'll wake up the whole house."

Nattie was wide-eyed. "How did you -- I don't even know how this is possible," she said. "I'm gonna… I'm gonna go and check on the girls."

Sasha laughed as Nattie fled the room. "She'll be so surprised when she sees Mandy Rose in Sonya's room," she said. 

Charlotte was very clearly unamused with the situation. "What are you doing here, Sasha?" she asked. 

Sasha entered the room and sat on Bayley's bed. "She's so cute," she said, looking at her sleeping roommate, before turning her gaze to Charlotte. "I just wanted to check up on you."

"I'm fine."

"Oh good," Sasha said. "Because Becky's not."

At this, Charlotte felt a hot surge of anger course through her. "I don't care, Sasha. I don't care if she's not fine, I don't care if she's been spending nights hanging out at her stupid balcony because she can't sleep. I don't care that her hands are shaking because she needs to smoke but can't. I don't care, okay."

"How did you know her hands are shaking?" 

Charlotte sighed. "It was obvious," she said. "When she was watching our game last weekend -- at courtside -- I could see her. Her hands were shaking and I  _ know _ she wanted to smoke but couldn't. Or wouldn't. Whatever. I don't care."

"Yeah, you said that already. You don't care. You don't care about her," Sasha said.

Bayley stirred briefly, but didn't wake. Sasha sighed softly. "Listen," she said. "Becky doesn't know that I'm here, and she's probably going to kill me if she finds out."

"But I know you haven't given her any chance to explain what happened, to explain the situation. So I'm going to be the one to explain it to you," she continued. "Because I've known Becky for three years, and I can tell you with certainty that the past couple of months, with you, has been the happiest I've seen her. Scratch that -- it's the only time I've ever seen her truly, genuinely happy."

"Sasha --"

"No, listen to me," Sasha said sharply, and here Charlotte could see why everyone called her  _ The Boss _ . "There was no bet. It wasn't a bet. It was a challenge, from me to her, because I know she was hesitating about pursuing you."

"Why?" Charlotte asked. "Why was she hesitating in the first place?"

Sasha chuckled. "Honestly? I think it was because you were  _ hard work _ . God, Charlotte. Do you know how many girls were in the house last night, taking their chances at catching her attention? She doesn't have to even try anymore -- she's Daddy Becky, she can get any woman she wants in this campus. But you were making her work for it, and that was new. And she didn't need to do that kind of work anymore."

"I gave her that stupid challenge because … " At this, Sasha trailed off. "I guess, it was because she needed an excuse. She needed an excuse to go after you, to pursue you. Something that would… protect her reputation. If people questioned her, if they asked why she was working  _ so hard _ to get you, then she could always say that she and I had a deal, see?"

Charlotte was silent, and Sasha took that as her cue to continue.

"But let me tell you this -- she forgot about that stupid challenge barely two weeks in. The moment you took those stupid protein bars from her and smiled at her, she forgot all about it. Everything became  _ about you _ ," Sasha said.

"I know she's told you this before, but you just  _ fascinate _ her. Endlessly. Becky is bored easily, but she was never bored with you. She enjoyed every little thing  you told her, even your boring stories about gymnastics class --"

"They weren't boring!"

"Well, they bored me!" Sasha snapped. 

Charlotte frowned at her, and snapped back: "Well, they didn't bore Becky, did they?"

"Yes, that was the  _ point _ , Charlotte, my god," Sasha said.

"Speaking of points, do you have one?" Charlotte said, refusing to be one-upped by Sasha.

"I did, actually," Sasha said. "A couple, in fact. The first -- there was no bet, and this challenge was stupid. Believe me -- even if I didn't challenge Becky, she would have ended up going after you anyway. Well, she totally would have fucked around for a couple of months first, but believe me, she would have still gone after you."

"Why?"

The other woman was silent for a few moments, as if contemplating her answer. 

"Because she was infatuated with you the moment she saw you," Sasha finally said, her voice bare and honest and pained, thinking back to the look of wondrous fascination on Becky's face when Charlotte walked up to the volleyball team's house, all those months ago. "The moment she saw you walking with that sunflower in your hand, she was done for."

"She loves you," Sasha said, quiet, strained, as if it physically hurt her to voice the thought out loud. "She's loved you for a while now, I think, but she's also an idiot."

"She said she was always going to be honest with me," Charlotte said, her voice just as soft.

"Yeah, well, like I said, she's an idiot," Sasha said. "Look, Charlotte. I know you're going home. But I also know that my best friend hasn't slept well in the past two weeks, and it's kind of getting annoying to see her cry into her cereal. And it's certainly getting annoying having to drag her back to her room every night because she fell asleep in that goddamn balcony."

"Look," she said again. "It's not like I'm asking you to take her back. I'm not. But I need you to give her a  _ chance _ . Just let her explain herself. She's going to struggle and mumble and bumble her way through it, but you need to give her a chance to explain to you. I mean… you might even understand, a little."

Charlotte glanced at her messy room, at her half-filled suitcase, and finally, at Sasha Banks. The shorter woman was looking at her expectantly, as if The Boss believed that Charlotte would stand up, cross the street, and talk to Becky right this moment, just because Sasha asked.

"No," Charlotte said, her voice soft but firm.

"Excuse me?" Sasha replied, aghast.

"I'm sure you mean well, Sasha," she said. "But I'm just not ready to face Becky right now. And my father's going to be coming here in a while -- I would like to be emotionally stable when I see him."

Charlotte sighed. "But I will… think about what you said," she promised. "And maybe when I get back, I'll be ready to listen to Becky."

Sasha looked as though she wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. She stood up and took one last longing look at the still sleeping Bayley. "Well," she said. "I guess that's better than nothing."

Sasha was about to leave when Charlotte remembered something. "Hey, Sasha," she said. "What would you have given Becky?"

"What?"

"You said she… won the deal. What was in it for her?"

Sasha shrugged. "I gotta be honest with you Charlotte, I never actually thought of a reward for Becks," she said. "I don't know, maybe I would have let her tie me up to her bed or something. Let her do whatever she wanted to me."

Charlotte looked taken aback. 

"I didn't know you and Becky… I mean… you were a thing?"

Sasha laughed, but it wasn't her usual sarcastic laugh. It wasn't unkind.

"Very, very briefly," she said. "For two whole weeks in freshman year. Then we… well." She laughed, again, but this time it was a little more strained. "We cheated on each other, is what happened, so we decided we're better off as friends, who still fuck from time to time." 

"Oh."

Sasha's smile was soft, and genuine. "Charlotte, don't worry," she said. "It was a very, very long time ago, and Becky and I have both moved on. We never could have made it work, anyway -- we're so much better as friends."

"And besides," she added. "I think… I think maybe she was waiting for you. Believe me  -- she only has eyes for you. Just give her a chance, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, Sasha turned her back on Charlotte, and left. 


	10. i never thought it would end up like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and here we are, at the end. or maybe, the beginning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you. For staying until this point. The title of the chapter is from Marc E. Bassy's "Plot Twist."

_ January 4th _

"We're not holding a New Year's party," Mickie was explaining patiently. 

"Why the hell not?" Bianca asked in response. "We had a back to school party, and a Christmas party. A New Year's party is the logical next step."

Mickie pinched the bridge of her nose. "We're not holding another party, Bianca, because parties  _ cost money _ , and we spent a lot for that Christmas party," she explained, still trying to be patient. "And besides, we should let other organizations have their turn. They can't do it as well as we do, of course, but we should at least give them a chance."

Bianca was pouting, but she brightened when she saw Becky making her way to the kitchen. "Becks, try to convince Mickie, will you?"

Becky yanked open the refrigerator and pulled out a can of beer. "Convince her of what?" she drawled.

"That we should hold a New Year's party," Bianca answered.

Becky popped open the beer can, drank, then wiped her lips. "I'm done with parties for now, Bianca," she said. "But last I heard, the wrestling team is hosting one tomorrow. Everyone's invited." She chugged the beer again, not seeing the concerned looks on her frat buddies' faces.

"Becky," Zelina said, hesitantly. "It's … 11 a.m., and you're drinking?"

"Five o'clock somewhere, Zee," the Irish woman replied flippantly. She tossed the beer can to the garbage bin, then opened their fridge and took out another one. Almost mockingly, she raised the can in a toast, then made her way back up the stairs. It was clear where she was headed.

They waited until she was gone, before Bianca spoke up again. "Is she gonna be okay?"

Mickie looked grim. "I'm not sure." She glanced out the window, to the volleyball team's house across the street, where the players had already begun returning from vacation as well. "When is Sasha coming back?"

"She said this afternoon," piped up Lana, another one of their fratmates. 

"She needs to hurry up," Mickie said, sighing. "We need someone to pull Becky off the deep end, and I doubt Charlotte Flair will volunteer to do that."

*

_ January 5th _

Sasha gave Becky her space. She arrived on the evening of January 4th, took stock of the situation, and made the executive decision to let Becky drink herself into a stupor on the balcony before going there the next morning. 

There, she tossed a bucket of ice water on her best friend. That woke up the redhead, who had fallen asleep on the floor.

Becky, sputtering, her hair plastered all over her face, leapt to her feet and cocked her arm back, ready to slap Sasha's head off. She never got the chance, however, because Sasha put the bucket over her head.

"What the actual fuck, Sash?" Becky barked, removing the bucket and throwing it to the floor.

"Get your shit together, Lynch," Sasha snapped back. "School starts tomorrow, and you're here smelling like a fucking pigsty.  I checked your room and it smells even fucking worse. Jesus Christ. Did you even go home for Christmas?"

"Yes," Becky answered after a brief pause. "But I was back here the day after New Year." She sighed, and wiped wet tendrils of hair from her eyes. "Don't worry," she continued, her voice now softer, more tired. "I'll be better tomorrow. I just need to… not be okay for now. But tomorrow, I'll be fine. I  _ promise _ , Sasha."

Sasha harrumphed, crossed her arms over her chest, then glanced at the house across the street. "She back yet?"

"Last night," Becky answered, sitting cross-legged on the floor, unmindful of the water dripping all over the place. "Didn't even look this way."

"I'm sorry, Becks."

"She's done with me," Becky said. "I can feel it. I … I texted her over the holidays, I left voicemails, messages on Facebook and Instagram, nothing. No response at all." She balled her hands into fists, and closed her eyes tightly. "She's over me and I'm still here being stupid."

"I really, really, really doubt that, Becky," Sasha said.

"That I'm being stupid?"

"Oh no, that part's definitely true. It's your natural state," Sasha quipped. "But I highly doubt she's over you."

"How d'you know?"

At this, Sasha hesitated. She bit her lip, contemplating her next step, then sighed. "I may have… talked to her before she left for the holidays," she finally admitted. "I just tried to explain the situation, and I…  _ encouraged _ her to give you a chance."

Becky wanted to be angry at her best friend for interfering in her problems once again, but she couldn't find it in herself. She just sighed. "What did she say?"

"That she'll think about it."

Becky banged her head against the wall. "Fuck."

"Becky."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Sasha slid to the floor and wrapped Becky in an embrace. "Hey," she said. "Calm down, okay, it'll be fine. She'll come around."

"I just want a chance," Becky said, this time in a whimper. Her head was beginning to pound, her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, and her eyes were shining with unshed tears. Her hair was still wet, and her shirt was beginning to plaster to her body, making her even more uncomfortable and cold. "Just  _ one _ chance, Sasha."

"You'll have it, Becks," Sasha said, fervently wishing that she didn't just lie to her best friend. "Come on. You need to take a bath and eat. Sleep this off. It'll be better in the evening."

*

Becky did as Sasha had told her, sleeping off the hangover while her best friend kindly cleaned up the mess in her room and in the balcony. "You owe for this, Lynch," was the last she heard from Sasha before falling into a fitful slumber.

When she woke up, it was 6:30 p.m., and she could hear her frat mates laughing downstairs, obviously preparing dinner. 

She sighed. She could feel her stomach rumbling, but she was in no mood to eat. Her room was dark, matching the mood that she'd been in ever since that pivotal day when Charlotte walked in the middle of her conversation with Sasha, and then ran out before she could explain herself.

She wanted to be angry with Charlotte. She wanted to be mad that Charlotte refused to even listen to her, to even give her a chance to explain herself. She wanted to be furious, because didn't Charlotte say that she  _ trusted _ Becky? And yet, her she was. Avoiding her, not even looking at her, and generally acting like she didn't exist.

_ What I need _ , Becky thought _ , is a cigarette. _ She had not smoked all throughout the holidays, but with how she was feeling right now, she was tempted to give in and end the long months of suffering. After all, she was  _ stressed _ ; she had an excuse, right?

Abruptly, she realized that all noises from downstairs had quieted.

Groaning, she rolled out of bed, wondering what was going on. Silence in the frat house was dangerous; it rarely happened but when it did, a shitstorm always followed. Police may or may not have gotten involved before.

Stretching as she walked, Becky went to open her door.

… And promptly got the surprise of her life.

For there was Charlotte Flair, her hand raised as if preparing to knock, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Slowly, the blonde woman brought down her hand. 

They stared at each other in silence for a full 30 seconds. 

Finally, Charlotte spoke up. "Hi," she said, her voice soft. "May I come in?"

Becky wondered if she was still drunk. If she was still asleep. If she was dreaming. If this was a nightmare.

"I -" She shook her head, then tried again: "Charlotte?" When the tall blonde in front of her nodded, Becky scrubbed her eyes with her hands. Behind Charlotte, she could see Sasha making her way up the staircase, her head tilted in question. She nodded subtly, and Sasha shrugged before going back down. 

"Ah, yeah, come in," Becky said, thanking all the gods that Sasha had cleaned up her room a bit. She rubbed the back of her neck as Charlotte stepped in, then sat down on her bed. 

Silence, again. Becky achingly remembered the times when she and Charlotte would sit in comfortable silence, just content to be in each other's presence. Now, the quiet was threatening to suffocate her. She leaned back against her desk, then exhaled. 

"What are you --"

"I got your messages," Charlotte said, at the same time. It was dark still; Becky did not bother to open her lights, and so their only illumination came from the streetlights outside. "All of them."

Becky had no idea what to respond, so she said the first thing that came to her mind. "I was drunk when I sent half of them. I don't know if I made any sense."

"You did," Charlotte said. "The one you sent on Christmas Eve was very interesting."

"Yeah?"

"Something about how sorry you are, how you've been in love with me from the very start, and also something about sunflowers being your favorite flowers now? And also that you're stupid and an idiot and… a lot of other bad things."

"Ah," Becky said, glad that the darkness could hide her flushed cheeks. "Um. Well."

Another long spell of silence. 

"Sasha talked to me before Christmas," Charlotte finally said. "She told me to give you a chance to explain yourself. So here I am, giving you a chance."

Becky wanted to say  _ something _ , something like  _ I'm sorry, I love you, please forgive me, please give me another chance, I was never happy until I met you _ . 

But she didn't know how.

So what came out her mouth, instead, was: "It wasn't a bet. Sasha and I stopped making bets over girls in freshman year."

Charlotte frowned and crossed her arms over her chest; Becky winced. 

"I mean… it wasn't a bet. More of a … challenge. And I don't know how to back down from anything, so of course I accepted it. We never even agreed on what I would get out of it." The words poured out of her in a rush; Becky didn't know if she made any sense.

"Did she want you to sleep with me?" Charlotte asked, sounding skeptical. "Because if so, then you  _ know _ you lost that … challenge, Rebecca."

Charlotte had never called her by her real name before, and Becky winced again at the sound. "No! No, she just wanted me to… crack your shell, whatever that meant, I didn't even know, we never even figured it out!"

"Then why, Becky?" Charlotte asked, and now there was an anguished tone to her voice. Sasha had already explained the situation to her, but she wanted to hear it from Becky -- she wanted to understand where Becky herself was coming from.

But how could Becky do that, when she was so clearly struggling to put her own feelings into words? She and Charlotte had talked for hours on end, back when they were together, and she never struggled like this. She had talked to Charlotte about things she never discussed with anyone -- her hopes and fears and dreams, as Sasha said -- but to answer the simple question of  _ "why" _ was proving to be too much for her.

So, she closed her eyes and shook her head, as if she could convince Charlotte that it was enough of an answer.

Obviously, it wasn't. For Charlotte tried again, and this time, her question was more specific.

"Why did you need a challenge like that, Becky?" Charlotte asked, her voice still pained, but more firm. 

It was clear that she was not going to settle for silence. 

"I could tell that you liked me. I knew that from the moment we started talking, during the back-to-school party. But why did you need Sasha to  _ dare _ you like that?"

Becky took a deep breath. She gripped her desk, then turned around, and closed her eyes. "I was scared, okay," she finally admitted, even as she refused to look at Charlotte.

"I liked you the moment I saw you. With the sunflower in your hand. I don't know why but you just caught my eye. And then later that night, when you were watering the flowers and you smiled, and it was night time but I felt like I was staring at the sun," she continued, her voice quiet, her back still turned to Charlotte.

"And I thought it was going to be easy, with you, like it was for so many other girls, but it wasn't. When you left early, at the back-to-school party, I was… I was stunned, because I thought…"

"You thought I'd fall into bed with you, like Alexa and Paige and all your other conquests?" 

"Maybe," Becky said, finally turning around. She looked at Charlotte. "Or at least, I thought that we could talk for a while, I'd get to know you, and I'd stop being so … so goddamn  _ enchanted _ with you. I thought I'd talk to you, and I would find that you're like… like all of them. Like any other girl."

"But it was clear that you weren't," she said. At this, Becky let out a humorless laugh. "And when I started getting to know you better I … God. I only fell deeper, even though I didn't want to. God! I didn't want to fall for you, Charlotte, believe me. I was having a lot of fun, just being who I am."

"A fuckboy?" Charlotte asked pointedly. "A player?"

Becky closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to look at Charlotte. "When Sasha challenged me to ..  _ crack your shell _ … I guess I saw it as the excuse that I needed," she said. "So that I could chase after you in peace, without risking who I am… who I  _ was _ . I mean… I know some people were wondering why I kept showing up at volleyball practice. If anyone asked, I could just say that Sasha had something in store for me if I got you."

_ So Sasha had been right about this, at least, Charlotte thought.  _ She could feel tears begin to form in her eyes, and she stubbornly wiped them away. "Did anyone ever ask?" she wondered.

Becky laughed again. "Funnily enough, no. No one dared."

They were silent again for a long while. Becky boosted herself up from her desk, and stepped closer to Charlotte. When the other woman did not balk, she took a deep breath, then sat down next to her, making sure to put plenty of space between them.

"Charlotte," she said. "I'm sorry. This thing with Sasha was stupid. It was stupid right from the very start. I shouldn't have needed it, and to be honest with ya, I  _ didn't _ really need it. I mean… I think -- no. I  _ know _ that I would have asked you out, at some point, even without Sasha challenging me to do it. Her stupid dare just sped up the process a little bit."

Silence, again, but this time, Becky was quicker to break it. "I'm sure you've already figured this out, Charlotte," she said. "I'm a coward, and an idiot, and yes, I am a mess. But I was less of a mess when I was with you. Not … good, exactly. But better, at least, than who I was before."

Charlotte sighed. She moved closer to Becky. "I can't believe I'm going to say this," she said. "But I think I understand… a little. I mean, why you agreed to Sasha's challenge. She explained it to me a little bit, and… I guess, you had a reputation that you wanted to protect." 

When Becky only dropped her head in shame, Charlotte moved even closer.

"Were you embarrassed?" she asked, her voice soft and sad. "To  _ like _ me? To be making that kind of effort just for me?"

Becky was silent for a while. Then: "I guess I was, at the start. I mean, can you imagine? I had girls lining up for me, and here I was, bringing you protein bars and ice packs and sunflowers." She laughed a little, a harsh, choked sound. "But after a while I… it didn't matter anymore. I  _ wanted _ to do all those things for you. I wanted to keep seeing you. I wanted to see you to smile all the time, I wanted you to be  _ happy _ ."

"I didn't even notice the effort I was making anymore," she added. "I just… kept doing it. I kept doing the things that made you smile because nothing made me happier than seeing you smile. And I didn't even think about Sasha's stupid challenge anymore. I forgot all about it because… it didn't matter. It just didn't."

"I didn't care about it, because all I cared about was  _ you _ ," she continued, her voice growing softer and softer. "All I  _ care _ about  _ is you _ ."

"And I fucked it up. I really fucked it up, huh?"

Becky was looking up at her now.. Even through the dark, Charlotte could see how sunken her eyes were.

"You promised to be honest with me, always," Charlotte said, sadly. "And you weren't. You weren't honest, from the very start."

Becky was silent. 

"I liked you. So fucking much," Charlotte said. "God help me, I still do. I might even --" She stopped, abruptly. "I told you I trusted you."

"Charlotte," Becky said, sounding helpless. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, lass. I never -- All I wanted was for you to be happy."

At this, Charlotte offered her a very faint smile. "I know that," she said.

She bit her lip, wondering how she should continue. She had spent most of her Christmas vacation dwelling on what Sasha had told her --  _ She loves you. She's loved you for a while now _ \-- and thinking back on her own response to Becky. She had looked back on the months she spent with Becky, and remembered how  _ happy _ she had been, how happy Becky had been. 

_ It's the only time I've ever seen her truly, genuinely happy,  _ Sasha had said. 

Charlotte could feel Becky's eyes on her; she could almost  _ hear _ how Becky's heart was pounding. She knew she had a choice to make in the next few moments -- a choice that could change her life. Both of their lives.

She closed her eyes and stared into the abyss: Becky's brown eyes stared back.

She opened her eyes, and looked at Becky -- for real, this time. "Hey," she said, again with a faint smile. "I guess I … I may have overreacted a little. I probably should have listened to you, when you tried to approach me after our game. Could have saved us both some tears, huh?"

"I don't blame you at all for ignoring me, Charlotte," Becky quickly replied. "I deserved it. I truly did."

This time, the ensuing silence was a little less awkward. Still not comfortable, but at least Becky didn't feel like she was choking anymore.

Trying to be brave, she reached out and touched Charlotte's hand.

To her relief, Charlotte didn't pull away.

"Please give me another chance, Charlie," Becky said, quietly, looking at Charlotte in the eye. "I want to be with you. I was never really happy until I was with you, and… I like to think that I made you happy, too, didn't I?" 

She took a deep breath, and dredged up every last bit of courage in her messed-up self. "I just think that we're good together," she said. "And I'm sure that you're good for me."

Becky didn't know how she should continue. Charlotte, by now, was looking at her searchingly: she stared back, steadfast, if only to show Charlotte that she was sincere, that she was  _ honest _ . 

She didn't know what Charlotte was looking for. But Becky hoped that she would find it.

After seconds, minutes, hours, days, an entire lifetime -- Becky wasn't sure -- Charlotte pulled her hand away. Becky felt her heart, already shattered, grinding into fine dust in her rib cage. She took a deep breath, and bowed her head. She closed her eyes. Charlotte was going to destroy her, Becky knew, but she wouldn't let the blonde woman see her cry.

"We can't just pick up where we left off."

That wasn't what Becky expected to hear. She nearly had whiplash with how fast she looked up at Charlotte, who was looking back at her with a guarded expression.

"Of course not," Becky said, proud that she managed not to stammer.

"I mean, I was getting ready to sleep with you," Charlotte continued.

"I remember," Becky muttered.

"We can't just… rush back into things," Charlotte said. "I haven't even forgiven you yet."

She was lying through her teeth. Charlotte knew it wasn't smart, but she wanted to rush back into things. She wanted Becky to drag her down into her bed and make love to her, the way she should have had all those weeks ago, before everything fell apart. She wanted to pick up right where they left off, when they were happy and in love and on the verge of telling each other exactly that. She wanted to sleep in Becky's arms and wake up there, safe and warm and comfortable -- loved.

But she knew that she had to be smart. She had to guard her heart. 

She wanted to give herself time to learn to trust Becky again. She wanted to take her time and truly get to know the other woman. She wanted to see if Becky was sincere, if she had truly changed, if she wasn't going to hurt her again.

Charlotte looked at Becky. The Irish woman was staring at her, her face utterly vulnerable. She could see that Becky was still waiting for her to say something that will dash her hopes.

Charlotte grabbed Becky's hands in hers, instead. 

"I'm giving you another chance, Becky," she said softly. "But I want us to take things slow."

Becky's heart was hammering; there was the fluttering in her stomach again, familiar and comfortable and perfect. She wanted to leap up and pump her fist: this was all she wanted, all she needed. 

Instead, she managed to convince herself to be calm.

"Slow," she replied. "I can do slow."

"And it'll be your last chance," Charlotte said. "I mean it, Becky."

"Of course, Charlotte."

They were silent again, but still holding hands. Becky coughed a little, then said: "So… if we're taking this slow… that means you're not sleepin' over, right?"

That got a little laugh out of Charlotte. "No," she said, but she was smiling widely now. "I'm afraid not."

"Can I pick you up after practice tomorrow, though? Maybe go to a movie afterward?" 

"I would like that, yes."

Becky's eyes were shining with gratitude, and Charlotte was drowning in them. She wanted to collapse in Becky's arms, to be held, to be touched and loved. Instead, she just linked their pinkies together, basking in the smile that broke out of Becky's face.  _ God, don't let this be a mistake _ , she thought, desperate yet hopeful.

After a few more moments, Charlotte tugged her hands away, and then stood up. "I should go," she said. "Early day tomorrow."

Becky wanted to protest. She wanted to sit with Charlotte for a few more minutes, even just in silence. She wanted to express to Charlotte how  _ grateful  _ she was, how thankful; she wanted to find some way to show Charlotte that right now, Becky felt like the luckiest person in the world.

But Charlotte had already given her what she had asked for -- another chance. An opportunity to fix her mistakes, and show Charlotte that she has changed. That she is different.

A chance to show Charlotte that she loves her.

A chance.

For tonight, that should be more than enough.

So, instead of protesting, she nodded at Charlotte, then stood up, too. "I'll walk you out," she said.

They went down the stairs in silence. When they reached the door, there was no kiss, no hug, no touching of any sort. Instead, Charlotte just smiled at her again, tentative and still uncertain. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah, tomorrow," Becky said, smiling back. 

She watched as Charlotte walked all the way back to the house, her smile growing wider when Charlotte looked back at her just before going in, and waved to her slightly before making her way inside.

When she closed the door, she found that the entire frat had watched their exchange. Becky just shook her head; every one stayed silent as she made her way up the stairs, through the attic, and into the balcony.

*

The breeze was still cool. 

There were so many things she needed to do. She had to fix her stuff for school. She had to  _ eat _ , at some point. She probably needed a good night's sleep.

Instead, Becky was at her balcony, enjoying the cool air. Her mind, for the first time in over a month, was clear. There was just one thought running through her head, over and over and over again.

They were five days into the new year. It was only right to get a new beginning.

"Hey."

She didn't even need to turn around to see who it was.

"Hey, Sash."

The quiet stretched out for a few moments, before Sasha asked: "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

Another long stretch of silence. Then: "Are you happy?"

Becky looked across the street, where the lights were already closed; Nattie still kept a tight ship, and the girls stuck to her strict curfew. She looked at the sunflowers in the garden, still blooming, bright in the moonlight. 

Becky looked up at the sky and felt the breeze against her face for a moment. 

"Not yet," she said, finally. "But I will be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am grateful to every single one who has read this story. Special thanks go out of course to Ash, whose incredible mind birthed this concept, to Sam, whose encouragement has been not only important but essential, and to Padya, whose comments give me life. But thank you, to everybody who has taken the time and gone on this little story with me. This was, in all honesty, an exercise in self-indulgence, and also a challenge to myself: can I do this, as someone who is not really a creative writer? I don't know the answer yet, but I'll (hopefully) keep going until I find out.

**Author's Note:**

> For thoughts, suggestions, and any other reactions, come find me on Tumblr at rebeccaquinoa.


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